Reward
by SaneYaoiAddict
Summary: As first place in Wammy's, Near is entitled to anything he wants, with no restrictions. So when he requests Mello as his reward, no one stops him-and Mello is required to follow every order.
1. Toy

_**A/N: Wow, the first time in a while I've written something longer than one chapter. Dx I've been so sick of short stories… They get old, y'know? And I think this is the first time I've actually written Near and Mello… This is how I imagine it, but it actually makes SENSE. (: Well, enjoy, and try not to claw your eyes out, since Near's in this one. (:**_

__"Wow, Near!"

"First again!"

"I wish I was as smart as you are!"

All the children were crowded around the rankings sheet that had just been posted. The younger, lower-ranked children congratulated him on his rank, on being the best out of all of them; a genius among geniuses.

"That means you get anything you want, anything at all…" a young boy said in awe, gazing at Near as if he were some sort of god.

L, as motivation to work harder, rewarded the top student by giving him or her a reward—anything he or she wanted, anything at all. Near, ironically, was one of the few that didn't care for this. Even without this, he had everything he wanted already; he didn't want any material possessions, other than the toys already provided for him.

This time, however, he knew exactly what he wanted. Or, rather, who. That someone was one of the only students _not_ fawning over him. He whispered things to the redhead at his side, likely comparing Near to the devil himself, or saying he was an emotionless bastard, one of his common insults.

He'd been desiring the boy for quite some time, but each time he tried to get close to him, he got hit, yelled at; rejected. And now, when he'd figured out his feelings for the boy, he was ready to demand him this way.

"What're you going to ask for this time, Near?"

Oh, this was just perfect for him. He didn't have any problem with announcing his decision in front of everybody, but _he _would.

"Mello." He announced the name calmly, eliciting gasps from the crowd, all eyes turning to Mello—and, by default, Matt, who had been clinging to him.

Matt had stopped mid-sentence as Near answered, and his mouth was open wide as he gaped at Near, but he quickly shut it. He squeezed Mello tighter.

"You can't!" He pulled the blonde closer to him, trying to prevent him from leaving—though, really, he wouldn't want to in the first place.

Mello's expression of sheer horror was priceless. As soon as the words left Near's mouth, his head slowly turned to face Near, to see if he was serious, with his eyes bulging out and mouth open. He didn't seem to head Matt's pleading words.

"_What _did you say?" he finally asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen, and the few that whispered to himself stopped as well, watching the scene intently.

Near smiled at him, meaning to calm him down, but it only infuriated him further. Still, he calmly replied, "I want you to be my reward, Mello."

Mello only seemed more angered by this, knowing now that he was supposed to just submit to him, his eternal rival, in any way desired, any way _possible. _He couldn't. He wouldn't.

"I refuse."

"Mello, you know you can't refuse this," a voice, familiar to all in the room, said, along with the sound of approaching footsteps, the sounds so loud in the silent, tension-filled room. All of the children stood at attention upon hearing it, turning to face the speaker, their idol, as they had been taught. Even Mello seemed more respectful, though he still couldn't let go of his horror. Matt, though he turned to the slouched man like everybody else, still held to Mello as if trying to calm him down.

"But L, it's completely unreasonable!" He was desperate to prove his point, not wanting to do anything for Near, or wanting to be his "reward," but he knew he had to do as L said.

L shook his head. "There are no restrictions for this. He can have anything he wants. And if that something he wants happens to be you, then he can have you."

"But— But I! He's a spoiled brat! How can you just say that he gets anything he wants?"

He couldn't believe L was taking Near's side. L laughed, and Mello couldn't help but think that it sounded harsh and cruel. He was always desperate for L's approval, so he always thought he was being judged, but this was…. Different. "He warned me that this would be difficult. Should I restrain you, to give him what he wants?"

Mello couldn't believe this. He was going to _belong_ to Near? For how long? It wasn't fair! He was only doing this to humiliate him, wasn't he? If that was the case, he vowed revenge just as soon as he could have it.

And he didn't have to make it easy for him. There was no way in Hell Near would be able to enjoy this. Mello would make it Hell for him, to prove that he would never submit. To prove that Mello was nobody to mess with.

Of course he wanted to obey L, to make him proud so he could one day succeed him. But he sure as Hell wouldn't do what Near said _willingly,_ even if he had resigned himself to the fact that he had to do this.

When he made no move, Near grabbed the front of Mello's shirt and tugged him closer with surprising force, tearing him apart from Matt, who lost his balance and grip on Mello, staring up at him with the look of an abandoned puppy.

He dragged the blonde over to L, and Mello did _not _appreciate this force. He'd never been treated this way, like a _possession. _He was enraged by this; he was the best person in this place, the one that worked the hardest. He did nothing to deserve this treatment.

"Do you have it?" Near asked L, holding out his hand expectantly. "It was part of the conditions of the reward, after all."

"Of course." L handed Near the small plastic bag he had been carrying. Mello couldn't see through the black plastic, but from the smirk on Near's face, it couldn't be good for him.

Near thanked him and dragged Mello to his room—he knew he could break free, but if he did, he would be punished, so he silently protested by keeping his feet still, not moving at all as he walked, though Near only exerted more force and made him trip repeatedly—and shoved him inside, locking the door after he closed it.

Mello slumped to the floor against the wall, crossing his arms as he gave Near a look of disobedience, like a child throwing a fit when he didn't get the toy he wanted.

"I don't even know why the Hell I'm here. Let me go back to Matt, we were going to—"

"Oh, I know what the two of you do. You'll still get a chance, don't worry."

Mello's first reaction was shock, followed quickly by… Fear. How did Near know that? He may not have kept his relationship with Matt secret, but it wasn't known that they actually had _sex._

And that statement… Was he saying that he was going to be released in time to sneak back to Matt's room, or did he refer to doing it _himself?_

The thought sent shivers down his spine, and anger flashed in his eyes, flowing through his very veins, his heart pumping the toxic substance through his entire body until it was all he could feel anymore.

"Why am I here?" he repeated harshly, though he somehow still managed to keep himself from rushing over and attacking the boy he was forced to obey.

"You're here because I've grown bored with all my other toys," Near said calmly, opening the plastic bag L had given him carefully, untying it instead of tearing it open as Mello would have.

Mello didn't like being referred to as a toy. It was a filthy, disgusting, _wrong_ label—Mello didn't get used, played with, then thrown away. He wasn't a toy. He was the one playing with others, discarding those who he didn't need.

When the bag was opened, Near dumped the contents on the bed. "Oh, Mello, this does look fun. Don't you agree?"

Mello's eyes widened when he saw the numerous objects on the bed, all having one common purpose. Well, one _usual_ common purpose—obviously, when used by Near, they were all going to be used to torture Mello in some way.

_Sex toys? But… L gave him that bag. L… Approved of this? _

"Oh, Mello, what should we do first? I just can't decide." His voice had a hint of cruelty to it, yet overall sounded curious. He'd likely never used any of these before—_well, duh, it's Near, _Mello added in his head—but he knew what to do, from the sadistic part of his voice. And likely, he wasn't going to make it easy on Mello…

This all terrified Mello; he'd never been _taken _before. He'd always been on pop. He didn't want _Near _to be his first time on bottom. If he was _ever _going to do that, it would be with Matt. He didn't want it, but it seemed unavoidable.

"Let's start with this, shall we?" Near asked, twirling a pair of shiny metal handcuffs around his fingers.

Mello shuddered. He didn't want anything to do with Near, and _especially _not sex with him—let alone kinky sex with handcuffs and God-knows-what. He shook his head, as if he could refuse—it wasn't a question. Mello could recognize an order when he heard one, even if he didn't like being ordered around—particularly by _Near. _

"Get on the bed." His tone was forceful, far from the disgusting playfully-curious tone he'd used moments earlier. His eyes were cold, and for once in his life, the blonde did as he said and sat on the edge of the bed, cautiously glancing at the pile of sex-related objects near him. He blushed as he recognized some that he had used on Matt—dildos, vibrators, and the like. Memories briefly flashed through his mind, recalling many nights with Matt, and the red tint slowly creeping its way across his face became more prominent.

"Remove your clothes." Near's voice was less cold, since he was likely pleased at Mello's obedience, but it still came out with authority, and Mello didn't like that. He was used to being in control, not being ordered around this way.

Hesitating only for a moment—he knew better than to resist, by this point, now that he knew just what Near had at his disposal to "punish" him with—he began to remove his clothes, slipping off his shirt first, then settling his hands on the waist of his pants.

This was so different from being with Matt, when they were both confident with themselves—proud, even—and _wanted_ this. Now, he was just shy and embarrassed, something he had never felt, and never _thought _he would feel—especially around _Near, _of all people.

Still, he had to obey Near for now—L told him to himself—so he slipped off his pants, too, resisting the urge to cover his crotch shyly, and sat up straight, acting as confident and dominant as he could under the circumstances.

But Mello could only keep this up until Near climbed on top of him, spreading out his arms and legs, his wrists close enough to the headboard that he could handcuff him to it—and he took advantage of this, doing so promptly.

He looked at Mello's body with a slight smirk, and the blonde never felt so exposed as he did then, under his rival's gaze, powerless to move or cover himself.

"I knew I'd made the right choice, choosing you," Near said, his hand quickly and delicately traveling down Mello's body, until he stopped it on his crotch, giving a small squeeze.

Mello let out a cry of surprised, even as he thought of all the reasons why this contact was _wrong _and _disgusting, _and the fact that he enjoyed it sickened him.

"However, it looks like I win again."

From his tone, Mello knew he wasn't lying—that, and Near was on top of him, so he could feel his cock through his pants. Something larger than his _own_ cock was going inside him? He knew his first time with Matt had been Hell on the redhead. He was legitimately scared, and did his best to hide it, barely suppressing a whimper.

Near pulled off his clothes as well, then grabbed a container—Mello guessed it was lube—and resumed his position on top of Mello.

Now he knew Near wasn't lying. What was ahead of him didn't seem pleasant. And fuck, how would he explain this to Matt?

A surge of guilt shot through him, though it wasn't his fault that Near was doing this. _After all, what Near wants, he gets,_ he thought bitterly.

"Relax," he said as he squirted some lube on his fingers, noting Mello's nervousness, "I won't break you like my other toys."

The words made fear spread throughout Mello's entire body so quickly that Near may have planned this reaction, even if the words sounded like they were meant to soothe. He'd _broken _his "toys" before? Was he referring to actual toys or… _People? _

Realizing that his words had backfired, Near sighed. "I only broke them because I grew bored." He slip his slippery fingers inside Mello, not letting his mind stray from his task. "Don't bore me, Mello."

Mello grunted at the intrusion and started to squirm, but that only made them go in deeper, so he forced himself to stay still, blocking out the discomfort and trying to forget that _Near _was the one touching him this intimately.

Just as he was about to think he couldn't keep himself from telling Near to stop, his fingers met a spot that made him cry out—in pleasure.

"And here I was, thinking you wouldn't like this." Near smirked—Mello would never get used to seeing him with that expression—as he pulled his fingers out, quickly grabbing Mello's legs and pulling him closer, trying to recreate the angle he had a moment before, before he thrust in.

"Gah!"

Mello couldn't help but throw his head back and let out a cry as Near entered him, from the intense pain. It was so sudden, and not gently at all, not to mention he wasn't used to it. It felt as if he were tearing open, splitting apart from the inside.

Yet at the same time, Near had hit the same spot again with his thrust, and Mello was caught halfway between a shout of pain and a pleasured moan. He couldn't decide whether to beg for Near to stop, to end the pain, or beg for more.

Near didn't move for a moment, as if determining whether or not to continue. Mello's breathing was harsh as they just looked at each other, not saying a word. This would have been a romantic gesture between Mello and Matt, but now it was just expressing the tension between the two.

Any pleasure the motion had brought quickly faded away, and all that was left was the pain, fading slightly as Near stayed still. His eyes must have betrayed him, or Near may have given in to lust, or seen some flicker of desire in Mello's eyes, because he suddenly pulled out and thrust back in, just when Mello was grateful for the penetration to stop, to finally be free of the pain.

"Gyahh… Ah…Ah!"

Mello cried out again, this time more willing to give in to the feeling of lust sweeping over him as he was entered again, feeling that same intense rush of pleasure. He was nearly lost in the wave of physical _feeling_; it felt so good, but that was precisely the reason it made him sick. Near was the one doing this to him. _Near!_

But when Near thrust back in again, and again, starting to create a rhythm, Mello didn't stop him. He couldn't—he was forced to allow anything to happen… And it felt far too good to stop, anyway, even if he could.

Mello was far past feeling shame now, far past regret. He didn't care what was happened, who was doing it, or what the consequences could be—only that it felt good, far batter than he thought it ever could.

He just didn't resist anymore. He was well aware that Near had complete control over him, complete domination, but… It was just amazing, what Near was doing to him. Mello didn't even hold back any sound, letting Near hear each and every moan, each groan as the thrusts sped up and Near's thrusts became deeper, the noises gradually increasing in volume until he was sure everyone in Wammy's could hear.

But he was past the point that he cared, past the point of caring what Matt would think; in fact, the name was temporarily lost in the rush of pleasure.

Of course, Mello's bliss couldn't last. After only a few more of Near's thrusts, he found himself closer and closer to his release, until he finally came, followed shortly by Near—who actually moaned, any by God, it was one of the sexiest sounds he had ever heard.

But Mello remembered Matt's, all the sounds he made when he was fucked, how much better they sounded, how they weren't at all reluctant, how they both wanted it—and remembered that _everything _about Matt was far superior to Near.

He sat up, suddenly no longer tired or dazed by the feeling. The handcuffs dug into his wrists from the sudden, harsh movement, and he felt a trickle of wet, warm blood flow down his hand, but he didn't even feel the pain. Suddenly, he was wracked with guilt. How could he have done that? How could he have _enjoyed _that?

"Near," he said with a harsh tone, the name nearly coming out as a growl, "Let me go."

"You seemed to enjoy it a minute ago." Near didn't release him yet, and didn't seem proud or anything; he was simply making an innocent observation.

Mello, enraged at Near's lack of obedience—though really, it wasn't new to him—struggled more against the handcuffs binding him, trying to break free. He didn't mind—or even really notice—the blood dripping down his wrists, staining the clean white sheets beneath him. He didn't feel the pain, didn't care if he destroyed his wrists in the process, because the guilt, shame, and fury boiled inside of him.

"Calm down," Near said, stepping off the bed, away from the frenetic blonde jerking against the handcuffs.

"There's no use for a broken toy."

Mello thrashed again, not liking that Near still referred to him as a toy. He stilled slightly as Near walked to his side and unlocked the handcuffs, but before Mello could reach the door, Near grabbed onto one of his bloody wrists, making Mello wince.

"I should fix this. You should always take good care of a toy, after all… Particularly one of this quality."

Mello growled at the repeated use of the word "toy," directed at him. This was getting aggravating, how Near said how much _better _than him he was—indirectly, of course, but it was still obvious—by calling him a toy repeatedly.

When Near pulled bandages out of the bag L had given him, his eyes widened in realization. Near had _planned _to hurt him.

"Hold out your wrist."

Reluctantly, Mello followed the order, even if he wasn't sure he could trust Near. He was still obligated to follow his orders, after all… Even if it made him sick.

As Near finished wrapping the bandages around both of Mello's wrists, he spoke, breaking the silence. "You still belong to me. Come back here after class tomorrow."

_What?_

He still belonged to Near, even after what he'd just done? This wasn't fair! He thought this would just be for one day, a one-time thing! Just how much more was he going to do?

"Next time, we will start with the rest." He gestured to the bag of "toys" on the bed.

"But for now, you are free to leave."

As soon as the words were said, Mello made his way to the door, wincing as pain shot through his lower half with every step.

_There's no use for a broken toy…_

As Near's words repeated in his mind, he came to a conclusion.

There was no way out of this. Near kept his toys until he grew bored with them, or they were broken beyond repair. There was no way out but to die.

He stepped out the door, rubbing at his wrist. The handcuffs had really dug deep into his flesh—which he blamed Near for, even though most of it was his fault for struggling.

"Oh, don't act like it hurts now," a bitter voice said from behind Mello, jealousy shining through in the voice, along with hurt and betrayal—it was raw, as if the speaker had been crying recently, but still came through forcefully. "You obviously enjoyed whatever he did to you."

"Matt? It- It's not like that!" Mello already felt horrible for doing this… He didn't mean to hurt Matt this way. He meant to hurt Near, not Matt—yet somehow he'd done the exact opposite.

"I thought you were mine," Matt said, forcing Mello into a hug, not sure of whether to be angry with him or hold him close. "But you're _his_ now, aren't you?"

Mello allowed Matt to rest his head on his shoulder, feeling a few drops of water drip on his shoulder as he did so. He was… _Crying?_

Mello wrapped his arms around the younger boy's waist, holding him close for comfort, though he wasn't sure who it comforted more.

"I am yours. I always will be… A hundred percent, yours." Mello brushed the hair out of Matt's eyes and tilted his head up so he could see his _real_ lover, revealing his tearstreaked face and slightly-swollen green eyes.

"Promise?" The redhead seemed to be fighting to keep from looking weak as he looked up at Mello, though there was something… _Different _about the look in his eyes.

"Of course. I'm yours, forever," he told Matt, running his fingers through his hair.

"Prove it." Matt's voice was harsh now, forceful, unlike a moment before, as he gave the order.

But Mello didn't have much time to dwell on it, as a few seconds after speaking, Matt pushed Mello against the wall, pressing their lips together in a forceful kiss.

_**A/N: This came out better than expected, actually. I hadn't planned on Mello being with Matt as this was happening. (:**_

…_**And I know, I left it on a cliffhanger again. Sorry. But that's enough of seme Near scarring you for now. I hope, anyway, since it's terrifying. Dx**_

_**Reviews would be epic. (:**_


	2. Rest

_**I'm sorry this took so long to get uploaded. Dx I don't have any ideas for the next chapter AT ALL, really… And I'm kind of trying to develop my writing so it's better. By the way, I have another critic now**__**—**__**in real life. Which would be great, but he's a TOTAL ASSHOLE ABOUT IT. But I'll stop with the lame excuses, and…Here you go.**_

Mello felt a sharp stab of pain run through him as he was pressed against the wall. Matt felt him stiffen as he fought off the pain, and pulled away, looking at him with wide eyes, as if Mello was fragile and needed to be treated delicately, which he had not done.

"Are you okay?" he asked, releasing his rough, harsh grip on Mello, not forcing him against the wall any longer. He was jealous of Near, and even angry, but he didn't want to hurt Mello, especially when it wasn't his fault.

Mello nodded, but as he saw Matt's eyes flash with fear, terrified that he had hurt his lover, he quickly added, "It's not your fault, he…"

Mello trailed off, not wanting to tell Matt what Near had done to him—and that he _enjoyed _it, no less, which disgusted him.

"What did he do to you?" Matt's eyes burned with anger now, both angry that Near had hurt Mello, and that Near had done things with Mello that _he'd _never done. He didn't even know why he asked; there wasn't anything else that could have happened, with the noises he'd overheard.

"He…" Mello didn't want to tell Matt, didn't want to hurt him any more, or face what had been done. Gently, he touched his wrists, wincing as even the light touch pained him.

"He used handcuffs."

Mello was hesitant to say the rest, but Matt pulled him closer as he spoke, comforting him, and he knew he couldn't lie.

Mello, uncharacteristically scared, rested his head on Matt's shoulder. He gently brought his hand down, gently touching Matt's ass with his fingertips, while pulling him closer with his other arm, wrapped around him. This movement wasn't sexual; they both knew it wasn't out of desire, but fear and even embarrassment.

"And he did… What we've done," he finally said, embarrassed and even slightly…fearful. He didn't want Matt to know, even though it was likely he'd figured it out already, anyway.

Though Matt knew it was the only thing that could have happened in the room, long before Mello told him, he didn't want to accept it. "No…" he murmured as he pulled Mello closer. He didn't want to accept it, didn't want to look in Mello's eyes and see the truth.

Mello didn't tell him that he would be forced to go back the next day. He wanted to keep his lover as happy as possible, even if that meant keeping this secret. Matt couldn't be hurt any more than he already was by this. That would mean Near won.

"Matt… Tonight, we can't…" Mello knew he couldn't give himself to Matt tonight. He knew he would only feel worse, and guilty for doing that twice in the same day.

"I know," Matt said, leading Mello to his room anyway. Mello followed Matt, barely keeping his balance as the redhead pulled him along. This was all too much. "But…Why are we still going to your room? I can't do it, not after—"

Matt opened the door and stepped inside, pulling Mello along as well. As soon as the door clicked shut, Matt wrapped his arms around Mello tightly, kissing his cheek and jaw almost sloppily multiple times.

"I know you don't want to do what we planned," Matt began, pulling Mello closer still. "But you can have me."

"Matt, I—"

"Please," Matt begged. "I need you…Take me."

Mello was shocked that Matt didn't seem to be angry with him any longer.

"I need to know you still love me, Mels…" He buried his head in Mello's shoulder, still awaiting a response.

Mello ran his hand through Matt's hair, happy to be close to him, but it just felt…Different. Matt meant so much to him, especially now, after what Near had done, violating him so thoroughly.

"I do still love you."

"That's not enough! I want you to prove it, I want to _feel _it…"

Mello didn't know what to do. After Near did that to him—and made him _enjoy _it, no less—it would just feel…Wrong. Having sex with two boys in the same day felt dirty, even if it wasn't his fault. Even if having sex with Matt was consensual. He just couldn't forget how it felt to have someone _inside _him, making him feel wonderful, and—

No. He wasn't starting to want _Near, _for God's sake!

"Please…" Matt begged once more, startling Mello out of his nightmarish thoughts of possible lust—directed at _Near!_

Mello couldn't deny him, not when he needed Matt as well, needed to know he could have sex without pain or guilt. Most of all, he needed the comfort Matt offered, and knew Matt needed the proof that he still loved him and was willing to bond them in the most intimate way.

Mello nodded, and Matt lay on the bed, smiling as he spread his legs expectantly. Not surprisingly, he was already hard, and had obviously had some trouble controlling himself.

As Mello started to remove Matt's clothes, torturously starting with his shirt, he felt waves of lust wash over him while he gazed at the smooth, pale skin before him. For a moment, he rested his hands on Matt's hips, fighting off memories of what it was like to be on the receiving end of this; it was similar to an out of body experience, as he replayed the memories against his will while on top of Matt. But he soon managed to repress them, a skill he'd mastered already, and began to remove Matt's pants and boxers, taking great pleasure in simply staring at the beautiful, delightfully exposed boy beneath him, offering a small, slightly embarrassed smile to compliment his blushing face, though from the look in his eyes, it was clear he was growing impatient.

He let out a small whimper, the sound making Mello realize just how much he wanted this boy, every sound he let out making Mello's body hot with desire, making him crave more and more.

Mello was brought back to the real world when Matt's fingers gently brushed his crotch as he pulled down his pants, shooting him a look of apology, nearly hidden by his obvious desire, when Mello stared back, questioning.

Before he even knew it, Mello had Matt lubed up and ready, with Matt's legs wrapped around him.

"Ahh…! Mello…" Matt gasped as the blonde thrust into him.

Now that Mello knew what it felt like to be on bottom, he looked sympathetically at Matt, carefully searching his lover's face for any trace of pain. Surprisingly, he found none; the redhead only looked back at him when he didn't continue immediately, almost as if begging for more, something Mello couldn't understand.

But currently, Matt was the only comfort he had, and he simply _needed _him, the same way Matt needed him. He just couldn't resist taking the redhead when he gave him that look, especially when Matt wanted him, too, so he kept going, listening to Matt gasp and groan, writhing beneath him as he gripped the sheets under him tightly. As Matt twisted beneath him, shamelessly letting out sounds of pleasure, Mello observed his eyes, shut tightly, and just how flushed his cheeks were; his face was the epitome of pleasure, and Mello couldn't help but wonder if _he _had looked like that, as well. But he quickly denied it, focusing on Matt's body, and how it felt to be this close to him.

As Mello got closer to release, his movements became more frantic, unable to resist how this made him _feel. _He could tell it affected Matt, too—he was moaning louder, not holding any sounds back, and held onto Mello's back tightly, digging his fingernails into his flesh, even drawing some blood, as he rocked his hips back, trying to get Mello deeper inside of him.

This increased friction was just enough to throw him over the edge, Mello's name slipping from his lips without him even thinking about it; by now, it was literally a reflex. Shortly after, Mello was driven to release, forgetting about Near in the process, only aware of the beautiful redhead at the moment, the one who had made him feel this way.

He sat up, but immediately Matt wrapped his arms around him and rested his head on his chest, the extra weight forcing him to the bed.

Smiling up at him, Matt asked, "Do you feel any better?"

Mello wrapped one arm around Matt, resting his forearm on his bare, still-hot and slightly-damp skin. He felt so warm, and so…safe, for the first time since he came here; intimidation could only ensure a certain level of security, and only until someone far more threatening comes along.

But for the moment, he was safe, carefree—the way he always felt after having sex with Matt. All anger directed towards Near, an opponent he knew he could never defeat, was gone.

Mello allowed Matt to snuggle closer, recalling that Matt still expected an answer as he gazed at Matt, stroking his hair with his free hand.

"Much better. Thank you."

Matt let out a grunt before holding on to Mello tighter, trying to get even closer to his lover. Matt had always been quite affectionate, but…This was different. His need for intimate contact with Mello may have seemed innocent, but it was caused by darker feelings—jealousy, anger, desire for revenge, and even simple lust, all hidden cleverly under a cute, needy veil. Mello knew just how serious this could be, if those feelings weren't addressed, if his needs weren't given to him.

"Are you okay, Matt?" He tightened his one-armed grip on him, trying to comfort Matt, as well. He'd gotten so much from him, but he'd only been given it because it was what _Matt _wanted. And he had to give Matt exactly what he wanted, since he could become unpredictable at times.

"Yeah, I feel great." Matt was still curled up against Mello, clinging to him tightly.

"Good…" Mello mumbled, feeling overwhelmed with all the events that happened that day—and, of course, what he knew would happen the next day. But Matt's touch kept the thoughts of Near violating him at bay, and his warm body pressed against him made him feel so safe, so _warm, _that he couldn't keep himself from falling asleep in his lover's—his _real _lover's—arms.

When he finally woke up, Matt was still near him on the bed, though not holding on to him anymore. He couldn't fight off the memories of the day before, why he was _here, _and the memories that flooded him horrified him. Still, Matt didn't know he still had to go _back _to Near, so he did his best to keep calm, thankful that Matt couldn't see his face.

Said redhead was, predictably, hunched over a game, completely absorbed in whatever fantasy world the game was set in; Mello could never keep track of what he was playing. When Mello sat up, Matt felt the bed shift, and said, without turning around, "Morning."

Mello groaned, still half-asleep, as he forced his body to wake up. Glancing at the clock, then Matt, he said, surprised—though not angry; he could never be angry at Matt—"Class started an _hour _ago!"

His eyes were wide, and he frantically rushed around the room to get some clothes out of the dresser—it wasn't the first time he'd stayed overnight in Matt's room.

He couldn't be mad at Matt. He really should have known that Matt wouldn't have set an alarm. It was his own mistake, but he couldn't even curse himself. Matt had kept him from worrying about Near, for hours. He knew as soon as he left, he would be at Near's mercy, forced to follow each command.

"Did it?" Matt simply shrugged, continuing to play his game; he'd never cared about class. "You should go ahead, I'll be a while."

Mello knew he should follow Matt's advice. He would likely keep playing for at least half an hour before walking into class late, wearing the same clothes from a day before, his hair disheveled.

Pulling down his hastily-thrown-in black shirt, he game the gamer a quick kiss on the cheek, as to allow him to keep his eyes focused on the screen, heading straight out the door afterwards.

He ran down the hall, not wanting to miss any more of his class than he already had; Near already had an advantage for the day's lesson. Just as the door was in sight, he saw a short figure, not even five feet, leaning against the wall near the door. The figure stepped out into the hallway, into Mello's direct path.

Mello was forced to stop, just in case, but he wished he'd just plowed him over once he realized who it was.

"Where are you going?" Near wrapped his arms around Mello's neck, needing to stand on his tiptoes to do this, due to his height—or lack of. "I took the liberty of cancelling your classes."

He used his grip on Mello's neck to pull the older boy down to his level, in order to whisper the words in his ear. They had a slightly-sexual purr to them, and he only smirked as he saw the fear flash in Mello's eyes once more, echoing the day before.

Near would show no mercy this time, not what Mello knew who he belonged to.

_**Again, I'm sorry this took so long. And…I'm sorry if anything's inconsistent; I'm trying to make this a bit more in character, especially Mello and Near, since I kinda fucked Matt up too much already. If you have any ideas for what Near should do to Mello, I'd appreciate you forever if you shared them with me, since I don't. Dx**_

_**But even if you don't, I'd still appreciate if you reviewed. **_


	3. Torture

_**Well, I finally got a bit more inspiration for this…Also known as boredom during class after tests. SO, you guys get more of this. Well, when I had my friend read this, she called me a sadist, so you guys are in for a real treat this time. XD **_

_**I think they're more in character than the last two chapters. Or, at least, Mello is, since I've been working on his character more than Near's… Oh well.**_

Mello tried to turn his head away, feeling sick from simply being this close to Near, just after leaving Matt. It felt dirty, sick, _wrong__—_like he was cheating.

Or, at least, he felt sicker than Near usually made him feel.

Near only laughed at his desperation to escape. "You can't fight me, Mello. You can't even run. You know you belong to me, don't you?"

They both knew this was true. Mello had to follow each and every order, no matter what it was. Mello, reluctant to accept this, couldn't help but glare at Near, who gave him a small smile, meant to tease and aggravate him, he was sure, in return.

Near removed his arms from Mello's neck and stepped down onto the floor again, grabbing a hold of Mello's wrist. The grip wasn't tight, giving the torturous illusion that Mello could just break free, but the days of him being in control were over. They both knew it.

"Come on," Near said, starting to tug gently on Mello's wrist. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"

He started to pull Mello along as he walked to his room, obviously having some sort of sick plan in mind already. This wasn't just a spur of the moment thing; Near had _planned _this, for who knows long. It was a terrifying realization for Mello—he'd never thought of Near as the cruel type. Just someone everyone thought was _better, _someone he hated…But didn't fear.

Until now.

Mello stepped into Near's room, completely neat and spotless as always, and was flooded with memories of what had been done to him the day before, filling him with a primal fear that only intensified when he remembered he couldn't fight this one bit, even if he tried.

Absentmindedly, Mello rubbed his still-bandaged wrists, the room bringing up memories of the torment a day ago. The contact sent a sharp rush of pain through his damaged nerves, and he winced, pulling his hand away abruptly.

"Near, what the hell is wrong with you? Why do you keep doing this?"

Mello knew his words would not stop the imminent torture ahead of him, but he had to at least get an answer. Plus…It might put off whatever sick plan Near had in his head, for a while. Mello didn't want to face that utter humiliation again—the feeling of absolute submission, knowing abuse was coming and being powerless to stop it, of letting the one he hated take complete control, expressing just how much _better_ he was, mocking him…He would rather die than face that again. But he wouldn't beg for that—he wouldn't _beg _for anything, ever, least of all to Near.

Near's answer was obvious, one Mello had guessed when this first started, but prayed he wouldn't hear, delivered mockingly, an additional, unnecessary cruelty.

"I want to repay you for all the years of torment. I'm treating you the way you treated me—but, of course, in a way that will actually hurt, a way that will leave you permanently scarred."

The smugness in his voice was far less hidden than all the other times Near had spoken to him. It used to be subtle, but there was no need for that now; this was all to prove how superior he was to Mello now, that he was his boss—his _master, _even.

"Get down."

Near knew Mello—knew just how the words would affect him. He'd watched, waited, all those years when Mello had beaten him, giving fake reactions to each hit when in reality, every punch or kick, every bruise, every drop of blood spilled meant nothing to him when he'd help on to the fact that one day, he would get his revenge. And now, here it was—his payback, in the form of a now-helpless blonde, stripped of his ability to fight back. He couldn't lay a single scratch on his master, only take all the abuse given with only a whine. He could hardly bark, hardly growl; biting was out of the question.

Near would never forget the horror on his pet's face at the moment; he took in each detail—the way his eyes bulged. The way his mouth fell open, and finally, the most glorious part of all, the way he finally recognized Near as his master, sinking to his knees in front of him, his head down, on all fours like the animal he was. Near's loyal little slave.

"Stay still."

Mello remained in that position, on his knees, as ordered. Even so, Near managed to find fault with it. He groaned, expressing his frustration, then forced Mello's shirt up and off, exposing his bare, for now unscarred, back.

Mello wasn't quite sure what happened next; all he remembered was a loud _crack _and intense pain shooting through him. Before he could even cry out in pain, he heard the noise again, and felt the same pain as before, only more intense as it stung his already-damaged skin.

He let out a strangled cry and his fingers trembled, barely managing to support him. He fought the overpowering desire to collapse, closing his eyes tightly as if it would relieve the pain, transport him to a world where he wasn't Near's _bitch. _

_Crack!_

This time, Mello felt the sting of the whip again, and in the reprieve before it struck again, felt warm, sticky blood flow down his back; it had broken his skin. He let out another cry of pain, but didn't start to beg; he knew he couldn't, or else Near would know he'd given in completely.

He struggled to remain upright, to follow the order given to him—it was humiliating, a sign of weakness, that he was forced to obey, that Near was his master, was _better. _Each time the whip cracked, he did his best to hold in his screams, but it was useless; the pain was unrelenting, increasing each time, as the skin became more damaged and Near started using more of his strength. Every held-in sob made him shake—he couldn't keep himself upright much longer, he knew.

With one more crack of the whip, breaking the skin again, leaving marks that would take a long time, if not forever, to heal, Mello couldn't help it any more. His arms gave out, unable to support him any longer.

He expected more pain, some sort of punishment, but it didn't come. He didn't look at Near for confirmation—he couldn't turn around; he was in enough anguish without disturbing his wounds, stretching them by moving.

Remembering that he was free after the abuse the day before, he struggled to crawl away, and back to his room, groaning as he attempted to move. Before he could even crawl an inch away, however, Near pressed his hand against Mello's damaged back, holding him down. Mello cried out in agony as Near somehow managed to slip his fingers into the cuts, resisting the urge to writhe—he learned the hard way it only intensified the pain.

As Mello screamed, his skin being stretched open, torn apart, Near didn't say a word to encourage him, to reassure him that the pain would stop soon. He only removed his hand after deeming the pain enough—for now—licked his blood-coated fingertips, and smirked.

"Oh, but Mello…I've only just begun."

Mello grunted in frustration, collapsing on the floor again, too weak to support himself any longer. He heard Near chuckle as he still struggled to move, refusing to give up, though he knew he couldn't fight anything. He wondered why he was trying to in the first place.

"Well, for now, we need to clean you up." Near's words sounded kind, by themselves, and likely would to anyone listening—of course, Mello hoped no one _was _listening—but his tone had a menacing feel to it, one Mello only detected through years of knowing him, reflecting his well-hidden sadism.

Near grabbed a bottle of peroxide and, before Mello could even try to turn his head to see what Near would do with it, the cap was already unscrewed and the liquid was poured onto Mello's raw wounds, each droplet burning as it made its painful way into his body, somehow managing to seep into each cut.

Mello was powerless; he couldn't even attempt to make Near stop. All feeling but the sensation of the burning liquid forcing its way inside him, stinging the sensitive, already-irritated cuts the whip made on his back, left him.

"Gyah…Aah!"

Mello let out cries of agony, praying for the pain to stop. But, of course, Near would keep torturing him as long as he could, drawing joy from each choked noise of pain, from each moment of Mello's suffering.

The liquid finally ceased falling on his back a few endless, torturous moments later. The now-empty bottle was discarded, with a thud as it hit the wall. The pain, though it didn't immediately stop when the antiseptic stopped making its way into his wounds, gradually grew less intense, though it was still agonizing. Mello struggled to try to block out the pain, but it just wouldn't stop. His breath was ragged, as he found it difficult to hold in his screams of pain as his body was abused in every way possible.

Well, not _every _way possible. Not yet.

"Sit up," Near ordered, feeling no sympathy for Mello's pain.

Mello mentally cursed him—and himself, for that matter—for doing this, but he followed the order, wincing as he struggled to sit up. The pain that shot through him as the wounds were stretched was quickly ignored, lost in his determination to obey. He forced away the shame from the submission, as well. He knew when he had to obey, was familiar with respect—and now he had to obey Near, regardless of how disgusting it made him feel.

He leaned against the wall to help support himself, careful to keep only his shoulder on the wall, avoiding all contact with his back so as to not disturb the already-painful wounds any further. He watched Near pull out more bandages, undisturbed, white, pristine, and _perfect _like everything else in the room—aside from Mello, of course.

Mello briefly wondered how damaged he would be by the time this was over. It had been only two days and he already had damaged, torn wrists from the handcuffs, and now, a bloody, cut-up back from Near's most recent torture. Not to mention, his ass was still sore from the other day, when Near had been seemingly gently in comparison to this. And now that he knew Near had a darker side, he started to fear what was to come.

Near knelt close to Mello, some of the bandages in hand. Before wrapping them around Mello's wounds, he reached behind Mello. Before his fingers even made contact, Mello tensed, knowing Near was about to hurt him in some way. Unfortunately, a few seconds later, Mello learned he was correct when Near raked his fingernails over the cuts on his back.

Mello let out yet another cry of agony at this, even though the contact was brief. Near smirked when he heard the scream, and upon seeing the look of pain on his face, he chuckled, obviously enjoying his enemy's suffering more than he _should. _Mello, not enjoying this at all—how could Near just _laugh _at him?—shot Near a glare, but Near just seemed to find his fury even more humorous. He knew Mello could not act on his anger, even in the slightest, and that only made the moment more desirable. Seeing his torturer, his tormentor for _years _submit to him like this, even with unquenchable flames of anger in his eyes, made it so much the sweeter.

"If you want these to heal, stay still."

Mello did as he was told, wincing each time Near's fingers brushed one of the damaged, uncovered areas on his back while wrapping the bandages. Mello could tell it wasn't on purpose—if it was, it would have hurt much more—but he couldn't help flinching each time as the sudden pain surged through him.

When Near finished wrapping the bandages, Mello sat up to leave, hoping he would be allowed to leave this time. Just when it seemed that Near wouldn't stop him, Mello was pushed with surprising force back down on the bed, irritating the wounds that had just stopped hurting—or, at least, hurt less than before.

Mello didn't need the reminder to stay still, knowing any movement, however slight, would bring more pain, yet Near insisted on saying the words anyway.

Near forced Mello's pants off, holding his upper half against the bed as he did so, bringing Mello more pain. Mello knew, even before that point, just what would happen next. If this continued much longer, he would break.

Mello could hardly protest as Near forced his hardly-lubed cock, hard from watching Mello's sweet suffering, from hearing his gasps and screams of pain, into his ass for the second time, as he was so overwhelmed by pain. He only managed a choked cry at the stretching pain as Near forced himself deeper. His entire body ached; his focus was mostly on his back as it was the most damaged, but his wrists still hurt and, of course, Near was, likely literally, tearing his ass apart.

Near looked down as his expression of agony, and only smirked and continued to shove his cock in and out of Mello, seemingly as hard as he could.

It hurt—so, so much more than the first time. There were many more wounds on Mello's body, and each movement agitated them; he was sure a few had split open, but he couldn't see to make sure.

But all his pain was forgotten when, a few moments later, Near hit the same spot as yesterday, the one that erased his pain.

Though he did his best to restrain all sounds, not wanting Near to know he _enjoyed _this, even in the slightest—just as he didn't want to admit how much that whip hurt—he couldn't keep a small, quiet whine from escaping his throat.

Unfortunately for Mello, this sound was just enough to let Near know he did like this, and the look on his face—a flicker of shock, along with pleasure he attempted to hide by squeezing his eyes shut—was enough for Near to guess that he wanted more, even if he wouldn't admit it. Unless Mello begged, he wouldn't get any more. Which was fine with Near; it didn't matter to him. Either option would torture Mello.

Near thrust in again, careful to avoid Mello's prostate this time, to torment him. How many times had Mello, as a cruel joke, touched him in ways that would leave him aching for more, only to walk away, leaving him feeling as if he was about to burst?

Too many. And now was his time for revenge.

"You liked that, didn't you? I can give you more…If you beg for it."

He knew his act of kindness wouldn't fool Mello—the way he promised to stop this if he begged, or to make it feel better. They both knew Mello would rather put up with any abuse imaginable than beg his mortal enemy for anything, _especially _sexual pleasure. He didn't want to beg Near for something Matt would gladly give him any time.

So, when Near changed the angle of his thrusts a second time, only _receiving _pleasure now, instead of giving, too, and told Mello to "Beg for more," Mello didn't comply. He simply gritted his teeth, willing himself to block out the pain; even as his back was pressed against the bed over and over as he was violated, and even with his gasping, heaving enemy on top of him, obviously getting pleasure from this, from _him, _he didn't beg.

This time, when Near came in his ass, after violating him thoroughly, he wasn't recovering from his own orgasm; he wasn't even _close. _Instead, he found himself cursing the boy on top of him, inside him, with every fiber of his existence.

Near pulled out with a smirk, leaving Mello squirming, regardless of how much it hurt; the minimal pleasure had managed to get him hard, against his will, and he was hoping for _something._

And his wounds still pained him; God, each time Near thrust in, he shifted Mello's body slightly, making him groan in pain and try to keep still despite it. And though he'd been dropped to the bed by now, allowed to stay still, his back still hurt from all the abuse.

"You can leave now. I'm done for the day," Near said, with a tone implying this was not optional, even if it seemed so. Mello knew he wouldn't get even a single touch, or anything to relieve the pressure building up inside him.

Though the state of his body and mind was agonizing, he knew he had to get out—and he'd been waiting for that chance since he'd been forced _into _the room.

Ignoring his body's protests, he forced his pants and shirt back on, fighting the urge to pass out as the pain from stretching his wounds from the movement became nearly unbearable. God knew what Near would have done to him if he was unconscious.

Wincing, he forced his body to move, to keep moving, to get as far away from Near as possible, his body aching with every step.

His room was all the way across the dormitories, after he'd made it clear he didn't want anything to do with Near. And, well, a few rampages, fits, and particularly violent, devious behavior directed at Near likely influenced the decision as well. But, fortunately, Matt's room was only a few doors away, and across the hall.

He managed to limp across the hall, to Matt's room, despite the fact that he felt like Hell. This _was _his Hell, his punishment for all he'd done to Near.

He was, fortunately, alone in the hallway, so nobody saw him as he struggled even to stand. In the deep recesses of his mind, the part that _wasn't _focused on the damage and violation to his body, Mello was thankful. He'd never liked to show pain, or any sort of weakness; how could he even hope to be better than Near, to be the best, if he was weak?

Though Mello felt like he would fall over and pass out—and he would have liked to, at this point—he finally made it to Matt's room.

As soon as he opened the door, he knew he was only in for more punishment, though he'd been hoping for some sort of reprieve, after all the pain he'd been through in the past two days.

The TV was on, and Matt was holding the controller in his hands. The first warning sign was the way Matt held on tightly to the controller between his hands, as if he were choking something. Upon further inspection, the game was frozen on the Game Over screen, white letters superimposed over a gunned-down, bloody body. This was the second sign.

"Mello," Matt said harshly, not looking away from the dead man onscreen. He sounded tense, and by the way he didn't take his eyes away from the screen, he could tell Matt was furious.

"Is there a reason you're here an hour after class ended?"

_**Yes, I'm evil for ending it here, aren't I? I'm so sorry I can't update this regularly; I have very few ideas for this fic. Dx I try my best to write in it every day, but… I can only get so much written when I don't know where this is going. Still…I might be able to get the next chapter to where I'd originally planned, even though Matt's a bit different than I thought he would be. XD**_

…_**And yeah. Whips. How stereotypical is that? Still, I like how I wrote that scene, with the dynamic between Mello and Near and all**__**—**__**God, I'm obsessive. **_

_**Reviews would be epic, you know. (: **_


	4. Fragile

_**Sorry this took so long! DX I actually kinda-sorta revised this, even if it isn't obvious. I want to get better. Especially at being consistent and non-repetitive. XD**_

_**This chapter was originally going to be shorter, but I randomly got an idea (it started raining, which…Really makes me want to write, for some reason) so I wrote it, and it made more sense to end the chapter there. So thank…Rain…For this chapter. XD**_

By Matt's tone, Mello knew he wasn't joking. He'd likely put the pieces together already, and knew Mello wasn't in class at all that day.

"…You _weren't _in class today, were you?"

Matt hadn't gone to class that day, either, then, judging from the fact that he was asking, but Mello didn't dare argue this point. Mello could easily lie, then; he'd lied all his life, to most of the people around him. But not to Matt, never to Matt. Matt was special to him, and always would be—both as a friend, and a lover.

Mello shook his head, a useless action, since Matt was still facing away from him, looking at the screen. "No, I didn't," he answered—truthfully.

"Then where were you?" Because of the way Matt didn't face him as he spoke, Mello was scared—Matt was acting as if he meant nothing to him, as if he didn't matter. And that terrified Mello, the thought that he would lose Matt.

Each question was fired right after the other, without any hesitation at all—though a few moments were silent, as Matt thought about his answers—leading Mello to the conclusion that Matt, though it looked like he'd only stared at the screen in anger this whole time, had thought this through carefully.

He really needed to quit underestimating Matt.

Mello swallowed before he spoke, nervous and the words not wanting to form properly. "I was with…Near." The name alone filled him with the same fury and bitterness as before, yet also fear—fear of Near himself, and of Matt, and his reaction to this. It made him remember each moment of abuse he'd suffered that day, the day before, and every moment he'd been forced to spend in his presence.

"I knew it…" Matt spoke mostly to himself, and his voice was less harsh than before as he came to terms with this; he'd obviously known, but being forced to accept it was far worse. Mello was still with Near, and hadn't even told him! He would have understood, if he'd just told him…

Mello was suddenly glad that Matt was facing the other way; he wouldn't have been able to look Matt in the eyes after hearing the pain in his voice, though Matt tried to mask it. The words were spoken so softly, something abnormal for Matt, that it would have been impossible not to notice just how the younger boy felt.

"He's the one who gets all he wants from you, huh? I don't even get that, only _Near. _I thought you hated the bastard, but you like him more than me, evidently…" Though he was acting angry, to try to hide his real feelings—Mello had never been able to read them; he suspected Matt didn't even know how he felt, sometimes—the pain in his voice was easy to detect, even if he hid his face.

"Matt, you know I love you, not him," Mello said, doing his best to convince Matt that this was true. Though Mello knew Matt was angry with him, and he still ached from what Near did to him, he made his way across the room, closer to Matt. He wanted to make Matt feel better, to make up for the fact that it was his fault in the first place. Still, he made no move to touch Matt, even to try to comfort him. Matt just might lash out at him if he did this the wrong way, and that was something he definitely didn't want.

"Then why are you fucking _him?_" Matt found it difficult to sound bitter with Mello so close; the words came out sounding weak, reflecting how hurt he really was over this. He'd just been cheated on, twice—once, he had his lover stolen away, the second, he went behind his back and got fucked by some other guy. Of course he'd be bitter, but it just tore Mello's heart to pieces to see him like this, knowing it was his fault.

"It's not like I _want _to; it's disgusting." Mello was ashamed he'd enjoyed it, even momentarily, but the pain the words brought up as he remembered was more intense. He lost the ability and desire to remain defensive as he recalled it all, every moment, every time Near fouled his body with his filthy hands. "…And it hurts," he added as an afterthought, reluctant to admit it.

After a moment of tense silence, Matt finally asked, "So, you still love me, then?" He snuck a glance at Mello he hoped wouldn't be noticed; Mello saw, but he didn't mention it, not wanting Matt's temper to flare up again.

"I always have."

Matt sat in silence for a few more minutes—Mello decided it was best to remain silent as well—as he decided what he would do next, before suddenly shifting closer and wrapping his arms tightly around Mello, who did his best not to wince or let out any sign of pain as Matt, unintentionally, of course, sent pain shooting through his back. He forced himself to remember Matt had good intentions, only wanting to reassure Mello that he wasn't Near's, that he was _Matt's_—and Matt wouldn't hurt, he would protect.

Though Mello did his best to hide his pain, Matt felt him stiffen at the touch and pulled away. Mello was grateful, though he felt guilty when Matt shot him the most heartachingly cute, dejected, puppy eyes and asked, "What's wrong?"

Mello, though cold and uncaring to everyone else, had never pulled away from Matt when he was being affectionate. Matt knew Mello had a soft spot for him, even if he typically didn't show it.

"Nothing." Mello didn't show pain to anybody, not even Matt, no matter how close they were. But he'd never been able to lie to Matt, so the word came out too quickly, as all his attempts to lie to Matt did—ever since his first.

"Don't lie to me." His tone was as cold as before, and it was obvious from that how betrayed he felt over the lie.

"I'm sorry," Mello mumbled, guilty that he'd lied to Matt, getting caught once again.

"It's okay." Matt spoke in a soft voice, making Mello suspect he wasn't simply referring to his lie; he used too much of a comforting tone. His words were spoken so softly, as if he were talking to a young child—behavior Mello would usually deck someone for, but coming from Matt, it was… Oddly soothing. Mello was hardly aware of himself as he pulled Matt closer once more, resting his head on his shoulder.

"He just hurt me, that's all…" Mello whispered in Matt's ear, hesitating as he spoke. He didn't want to admit this.

Matt kissed Mello on the cheek, his movement slow, as if he was afraid he would hurt Mello again, instead of comforting him.

They were content to simply sit like they were, to simply hold each other close, basking in the other's warmth, for a while. But when Matt wrapped his arms—tightly—around Mello, as well, making him stiffen once more, Matt lifted up the bottom of Mello's shirt, curious, being as gentle as possible.

"Matt—Stop…I don't want you to see…"

Mello quickly moved his hands to hold down his shirt. But by then, Matt had already seen the white bandages underneath—not that Matt couldn't feel them, as his fingers brushed up against them while he'd lifted up Mello's shirt. Though the bandages covering his chest and stomach were pristine, Matt saw a hint of bloodsoaked cotton as he looked over Mello's shoulder.

"Mels…" he said, horrified at the condition his lover's body was in, and with himself, as he realized he intensified the pain, even unintentionally.

"Don't worry about me," he said quickly, not wanting Matt to pity him.

Matt was tempted to peek under the bandages; he'd always been the curious type. But he managed to keep the urge under control, and instead asked, "What happened?" in a cautious voice, so as to not upset Mello.

"It's nothing." Mello did his best to brush it off, to act like it wasn't a big deal, before sighing and adding a rapid, "He whipped me," under his breath.

Matt pulled back, shocked. "I heard something," he admitted quietly, "But I never expected _this…_" Suddenly, the urge to comfort Mello started to overpower him.

But Mello, seeing the look in his eye—he knew he had good intentions, but he didn't want pity from anyone—said, "It's all right. It doesn't hurt." Mello hoped he could calm Matt's fears by acting like it didn't hurt, even if it was really one of the most painful things he'd ever felt.

"I know that's not true," Matt said, continuing to hold Mello close. Mello wouldn't ever say just how safe this made him feel, but Matt could tell; if he really didn't want it, he'd push him away.

As good as being close to Matt made him feel, he was desperate to excuse himself, to be alone so he could _relieve_ himself, to take care of the erection Near had left him with. The thought alone filled him with shame. He couldn't have sex with Matt again, so soon after Near had violated him once more. Even if he could, it would only hurt him, irritating the wounds Near had given him even further.

But as Mello tried to pull away, Matt stopped him by grabbing his arm, careful to avoid putting pressure on his wrist.

"I can help you, you know. You don't have to leave." Matt only scooted closer, placing one hand on the waistband of Mello's jeans, ready to undo the button, but waiting for Mello's approval. He'd always been very well in-tune with Mello's desires, even if they remained unspoken.

The sexual tone of his voice alerted Mello to exactly what Matt planned to do, and he didn't like it. It felt dirty, even the _possibility _of having sex with Near and having Matt finish him off. Mello felt sick thinking about it. No matter how much Mello felt he needed it, needed the relief Matt offered, he couldn't allow Matt to do this for him. Even if he wanted to. No matter how _willing _he was. It was sick enough to do it himself—going behind Matt's back both to please himself, and to please another. It was just as bad as having Matt be _okay _with it.

"Don't bother." Mello couldn't help the harsh tone of his voice; he wanted Matt to leave him alone, to let him take care of himself, to let him suffer.

"Mels…" As Mello stood up, taking a few steps away, Matt stood up as well and grabbed him, spinning him back around, and pressed their lips together suddenly, as he pulled Mello close. Matt pulled away after a moment, but kept his grip on Mello, to keep him from walking away.

"You didn't want it, and you didn't like it," Matt said, one of his hands slipping a bit lower, down to Mello's ass.

Mello desperately wanted to believe Matt, to let it happen. He _wanted _Matt to touch him, wanted to lose himself in pleasure, in sheer feeling.

But he didn't need it. He didn't need it from Matt, didn't want Matt to satisfy him. Because it felt dirty, having Matt please him after Near—even if Near didn't exactly _please _him.

They both knew where Mello had just been, what had just been done to him. It was cheating, in Mello's mind—sex with two men in the same day, in the same _hour. _It was sick.

But Matt didn't see it that way; he saw Mello, aching from the sting of a whip and desperate—even if he wouldn't admit it—for release.

It was so, so obvious to Matt, no matter how well Mello hid it. He didn't want Mello to suffer, even from something like this, because of Near—even if Mello would rather suffer than have him satisfy him.

So, of course, Matt would get him off.

"Matt—No, you don't have to—" Mello protested weakly as Matt fell to his knees before him, already working on undoing Mello's pants and pulling them down, even as Mello tried to struggle away.

But once Matt decided to do something, he _would. _

He grabbed Mello by the hips to keep him from moving—he didn't doubt Mello might try to get away, if he wanted to—using quite a bit of force, doffing his fingernails into Mello's skin, leaving tiny imprints, though he wasn't trying to hurt him; the force was just necessary with Mello, even with things like this.

"Matt…Cut it out…I can do it myself…" His protests grew weaker as Matt inched closer, teasing Mello with his warm breath, but he struggled to keep Matt from doing this. He wanted it—oh, God, did he want Matt to do this to him, but he expected Matt to hurt him from being with Near, rather than being babied and taken care of, like this. In fact, even though he didn't think he could take much more abuse, he would prefer it to this, to something he knew he didn't deserve. Not after what he'd just done.

But this did not convince Matt, who just, quickly, all in one motion, licked Mello's cock before taking it into his mouth.

Mello tried to hold back a moan, but instead a whine escaped his throat. He immediately kicked himself mentally for it, for enjoying something he shouldn't even have, and bit his tongue, both to hold back any more sound, and to focus on the pain, rather than the quite-enjoyable sensations from Matt's mouth.

After about a minute or so, Matt pulled his mouth away, looking up to Mello, obviously very confused, slightly hurt that Mello was still resisting the pleasure.

"It's all right, you know. You don't have to keep fighting it…"

Mello didn't reply, hoping Matt would just give up and stop. He refused to enjoy something he didn't deserve.

But Matt, realizing he would not get a reply, simply returned to licking and sucking at Mello's cock.

Matt didn't stop again until Mello came, successfully fighting off any sound. Not even a single groan escaped him, which disappointed Matt; he'd been doing his best to make Mello feel good, to not feel guilty for it, but it didn't seem to work.

Mello avoided his gaze as he hurriedly pulled his pants back up, buttoning them closed.

As Mello turned toward the door, ready to leave, Matt tried to stop him by wrapping his arms around his waist and giving him a quick peck on the cheek, hoping Mello wouldn't leave. But it was hopeless, and Mello tried to wiggle free from Matt's constricting grip, without saying a word.

The silence was tense.

Matt didn't need words to let him knew Mello felt even worse than he did before. He didn't swear, and, as usual, refused to fight with or harm Matt. But he hung his head down shamefully, protesting silently.

Matt, hurt and confused, accepted that he couldn't change Mello's mind. He was trying not to show that he felt he needed Mello now, more than ever—and sensed Mello felt the exact same way, but just wouldn't admit it—as he relinquished his grip on Mello, allowing him to walk out the door.

When he was completely out of sight, lost in the hallway, Matt shut the door and flopped down on the bed, doing his best to shut out the cold by wrapping the blankets around him. But it seemed to come from deep within, from the very core of his being.

As a tear leaked from his eye, one he didn't bother fighting any longer, now that he was alone, he knew he would have to force Mello to stay next time.

And he knew there would be a next time, with the way Near was.

The tear was wiped away, his eyes narrowed in determination.

Mello ended up back in his room, being forced to limp from all the abuse to his body, thankful to finally be alone. He knew Matt meant well, but he didn't want anyone to _touch _him, after that. After everything that happened that day, even with Matt…He just wanted to be alone. Matt didn't offer the same comfort he typically did.

He dreaded what Near would do to him tomorrow; no doubt, it would be worse than what he did today. He couldn't bear the thought—his back still hurt, stinging where the whip had struck repeatedly, only the most recent, most prominent, of his injuries.

The pain in his wrists, and, of course, ass, hadn't gone away, though his wrists didn't hurt much anymore, compared to his other injuries. His ass only pained him when he sat, or laid on his back—which was partly why he laid on his stomach currently, in addition to his wounds from the whip on his back, stinging when his weight was put on them—or moved around in any way, really. He did his best not to move, because of all his wounds.

He didn't go to dinner that night, both because he didn't want to disturb his wounds, and because he didn't think he could bear to be around the other kids. Not when he wasn't the same, wasn't the most badass, feared resident of Wammy's since B, whose feats were forever immortalized in the form of legends, whispered by candlelight to the younger kids. He'd always wanted that treatment, that legacy, so he would never die completely. He wanted to be remembered. Remembered as the best—not as someone forced to obey Near, someone to laugh at as he walked by.

He was sure the nature of the acts he'd been doing with Near had been passed around by now, so everybody had heard. To be honest, he was a bit surprised—though, of course, grateful—that nobody had come to his room just to laugh at him, yet another reminder that he was no longer the best, no longer even _second. _Sure, he was still _almost _at the top of the rankings. But it was as if overnight, he had fallen to the bottom, as if he was now something less—even to the others. Second, he could bear, but not the very _bottom._

He saw it in their eyes, as he walked from Matt's room to his, though he tried, unsuccessfully, to avoid their gazes. It seemed everyone was looking at him as he passed, not bothering to avoid the places where the most students gathered. As he walked in, at first, the room grew quiet, upon his arrival. That was all right; he didn't mind it so much. He _had _missed a day of class—Mello, who didn't miss a class for anything ,even the day he got punched in the stomach and felt like he was about to cough up blood.

But then, everyone began whispering to each other; they all _knew. _And even a cold glare didn't silence them. So, unable to take it any longer, he left, silently turning around, wondering when this would stop, when he'd get his revenge on Near, and when life would go back to its normal pattern of anger, attacking Near, and sex. Sex with _Matt. _

So that brought him back to his room, laying facedown, clutching a pillow tightly to his chest, fingernails clawing into it—or would have, if he hadn't bitten them all to nothing, already, a habit he'd already managed to break. But now, there wasn't even any shame in it anymore; there were far worse things than that.

It vaguely registered that he would be vulnerable to Near—or anyone else, for that matter—if he decided to come, because of his position. So, despite the pain, he forced himself onto his back, grimacing, and managing to fight all sound but a quiet groan as the pain shot through him again.

He had to watch the door, to make sure Near wouldn't be there. He had to, even if it hurt. He couldn't take much more of this, no matter how much he convinced himself he could.

He dreaded, _feared, _whatever Near had in store for him tomorrow.

Especially if he would have to face it knowing even Matt couldn't make him feel better.

Near, on the other hand, was very eager for the next day to come. His plan was only just getting started; first, he had to break Mello's spirit. He'd honestly expected it to take longer, from the way he'd always acted tough. But Near had overestimated him, it seemed…

Oh well, that only meant he could begin to do what he was _really _planning. Unlike what he was sure Mello had assumed, he wasn't really doing this to get back at Mello—though it wasn't all bad to have him fully at his disposal, or know he had someone who treated him like dirt, who thought they were mortal enemies, at his complete mercy. And though Near didn't quite return those feelings as strongly, he had to admit it gave him a sick satisfaction to see him squirm, hearing him whimper as he struggled not to beg.

No, his vendetta was for another, who had wronged him in a far more serious way. One he knew would be affected by his interactions with Mello.

Love was such a fragile thing, really. What defense does it have? Take away the thorns, and it's not so hard to touch, to manipulate. Such a delicate, precious thing.

And Near would destroy it.

Tomorrow, he would take away the final thorn, the last defense; Matt and Mello's last chance to remain together. Of course, it was dangerous. But if it went the way he planned, if all his puppets played into his hands, reacting _just _the way they should, he would have his victory.

And Matt would suffer, along with him.

_**OMG PLOT. XD Seriously, I'm terrible for just coming up with it now, aren't I? I think it fits quite well with the VERY vague ideas I wanted to use. (: AND NOW THIS FIC WILL MAKE MORE SENSE. I hope. XD **_

_**So, yeah. That thing about Near at the end. I really just wanted to write that because we were talking about symbolism and how roses are love and stuff in English class. And even though it probably made no sense **__**and is basically a metaphor, really**__** I just wanted to try it. XD So sorry if that got a bit weird. **_

_**Tell me how I did? **_


	5. Motivation

_**Sorry guys. D: I can't believe I haven't updated this in so long. =/ I don't have much inspiration, combined with finals, and adjusting to learning to write when I'm at home (which I hardly do)…This is hard to write. But I'll do my best to, promise. XD I had to fix this up, and it's the first time I can say I couldn't stand how bad my writing was. . I don't know if this chapter was just worse, or if I'm getting better at spotting things I need to edit. Hopefully the latter, it'll mean I'm getting better. XD**_

_**Anyway, I hope it's enjoyable at least. **_

It was a sleepless night, for both Mello and Near—Mello, out of fear and dread, and Near, out of excitement. Mello, unlike Near, didn't want to know what would happen, and certainly wasn't looking forward to it, a sick glee forming a smile on his face.

The next morning, Mello desired to stay in bed, covers pulled up to hide him, because of both the soreness and ache from the whip, and Near's violation, in his back and ass, and from the fear of the new, obviously-more-painful torture session to come later—if the sudden increase from the first day to the second was anything to go by.

Still, he couldn't miss any more class, or he would fall too far behind. So, even though his body fought his every step, he forced himself to get ready and walk out the door, to go to class.

Near, on the other hand, was not reluctant to go to class. He actually looked forward to it, a small, slightly creepy smile on his face, something very unusual for him, especially for long periods of time. But this was a very special occasion; after all, he would be able to get his revenge after all these years.

Near waited for Mello to enter the classroom. When he finally did, he caught his eye—though he saw Mello look away, hoping to avoid him—and gestured to the empty seat next to him, in the first row, indicating he should sit. When Matt walked in, he took this as an insult, a sign that Mello _did _want Near instead of him, despite what he said the day before. Matt took a seat in the back of the room, deliberately walking past Mello, not noticing the way Mello's eyes followed him desperately, his only hope to get out of this.

For a while, class seemed to go relatively normal. It was almost eerie, in fact, since Mello wasn't expecting this—he expected immediate violation, immediate torture. He was grateful, yes, but there was something _off _about the way Near kept smiling, like he knew something Mello didn't.

And then he said it, not even bothering to keep his voice quiet, seemingly wanting the entire class to know.

"Mello, please get under the table and suck on my penis."

Mello stared at him, confused, and in disbelief—Near hadn't made him do anything in _front _of anyone before.

He heard everyone around him whisper, and laugh at him when Near looked at him expectantly. "Don't make me wait."

The laughter grew even louder as Mello, embarrassed and highly self-aware of how he looked at the moment, crawled under the table in front of Near, who slid his pants down to his hips.

Everyone giggled and whispered to each other, as they watched Mello reluctantly begin to lick Near's cock. The teacher attempted to regain control of the class, but as he couldn't tell Near to stop—what he did with Mello was part of his reward, a privilege L himself had given, that he couldn't overthrow—it was futile.

Mello knew this was solely for his humiliation; Near wasn't even half-hard when he ordered Mello to do this. He was only vaguely aware of Matt's eyes on him, taking in every moment, watching Near receive something only _he _had been given by Mello before.

He knew everyone was watching as he forced himself to take Near's cock into his mouth, repulsed by everything he did, aware of each motion his tongue made, disgusted by the way it made Near feel.

He tried to numb himself, to block out all the laughter, the whispers, to let go of the immense anger overpowering him, to forget about what he was forced to do now. But it was hopeless—Near kept ramming his cock down his throat, and the best he could do was try not to gag. The only thing keeping him from biting down on Near's cock was fear of more violent, intense, embarrassing punishment.

He forced himself to continue until Near came, soundlessly, the fluid burning Mello's throat. Hatred, in liquid form, with old grudges and revenge blended in. He spat the foul liquid on the floor as he crawled out from under the desk as quickly as he could without hitting his head on the desk. But as soon as he managed to stand up, his neck and other joints aching from the position he was in, Near gave another order.

"Stand against the wall, with your back to me."

Of course, back was just a polite way of saying ass.

Mello had already worked out what was in store for him, and looked at Near fearfully. Some of the kids whispered to one another, trying to figure it out. They, of course, didn't know what Near had done, only heard rumors. They didn't notice the way he limped as he walked to the wall, from improper preparation, didn't notice how he winced as he moved his shoulders in the slightest, trying to look back at Matt, the pain flaring up each time he did so. They had no reason to suspect this, no reason to try to put the pieces together.

He now stood at the front of the class, grateful to have his back turned to Matt; he wouldn't have to see the look of horror and betrayal on his face he'd seen as he glanced back.

Mello did as he was told, standing against the wall with his feet spread at shoulder's length apart—maybe it would hurt less if he obeyed, if he made things easier for Near.

But Mello doubted it would.

There was a collective gasp—though Mello noted he didn't hear Matt; he'd already known what would happen, as he stared in contempt—as Near walked to where Mello stood and forced his pants down to his ankles, his ass bare, exposed for all to see, and red from the abuse.

_Now _they understood.

They were just appalled that Near would do this in front of everybody.

Matt knew it was just his own torture, not for everyone else's amusement, or Mello's embarrassment. Not for Near to feel superior.

The realization set in, panic beginning to fill Mello—Near was going to rape him _in front of Matt. _Would Matt get mad at him, for letting it happen, or get mad at Near?

Near stood behind him, grabbing Mello's hands and laying them flat against the wall, like some sort of twisted marionette, forcing him to stand completely flat against the wall, entirely at Near's mercy. This change in position made him spread his legs out wider, unintentionally, and his ass stuck out in an angle he was sure looked odd, and gave Near better access.

The wall was cold; Mello wasn't fond of being shoved against it, but he preferred it to Near's disgustingly warm touch.

Near grabbed Mello's legs, fingers digging in tightly to his inner thighs, as he spread Mello's legs out a bit more before shoving himself in, without warning, without any lube. Mello nearly fell down at the sudden pain, the intrusion, his fingers scrambling to find a grip on the wall, but he managed to stay standing.

Barely.

Near didn't bother asking or making sure Mello was all right before he thrust in again, making Mello groan.

He was aware of Matt's eyes on him, but thankful he didn't have to look into his pained eyes. He rested his head against the wall, facing the floor, trying to block out the pain of Near's thrusts; at the _most, _Near had placed a minuscule amount of lube on his cock, just to make it easy for himself, but Mello couldn't tell—it hurt too much to focus on, and in any case, if he _did_ bother with lube, it wasn't nearly enough to be helpful to Mello.

Mello tried not to cry out; Near seemed to be attempting to cause as much pain as he possibly could. But this was already bad enough, having to be raped in front of everyone, including his _boyfriend _and _teacher_, and nobody was going to attempt to stop it. He didn't want anyone to think he couldn't take the pain; if they didn't bother to help by now, they were unsympathetic, and would likely laugh if he screamed in agony. But he couldn't stop a pained gasp, quickly transforming into a pleasured moan, before he condemned all sound completely by biting down on his lower lip as hard as he could.

Had Matt heard? What would he think? It wasn't his fault; Near had caught him off guard, and he'd braced himself for pain, not pleasure.

And then it finally dawned on him, the puzzle pieces finally clicking together in his mind. Near wanted Matt to get _jealous. _Everything he'd done in the last two days had been an act.

Mello had been _used. _

"Get out, you sick bastard…" Mello grunted, willing himself to block out all sensation, pleasurable or not. He couldn't give Near—or especially Matt—the impression that he _enjoyed _this.

"Oh, I think we both know I won't. _You _can't stop me, and I don't know if Matt will even try," Near said, in such a way it seemed he wasn't having sex, aside from his panting as he continues to thrust. Just the same calm monotone as usual. It didn't affect him at _all _that he was raping Mello. Somehow, the thought bothered Mello more than Near getting pleasure from him—he didn't matter at all to Near, one way or the other. He was just a stepping stone to get to Matt, to aggravate _him._

"Now he knows you're not as innocent as you claim. Not when he sees you _enjoy _this," he continued, still whispering in Mello's ear.

"I don't—" Mello's protest was cut off when Near thrust again, and he felt the urge, the need, to moan. But, rather than go along with Near's plan to rile Matt up, Mello abruptly shut his mouth, forcing himself to forget this was probably causing Near the same twisted satisfaction he got when he moaned.

He couldn't allow himself to be used this way. He didn't want Matt to be angry with him, for this. _This is for Matt, now, _he forced himself to realize. _Not just so I can win, but so Matt doesn't fall into Near's trap, too._

He'd always assumed Matt hated Near because _he _did, but now, it seemed something more—and old grudge, hatred for each other that had festered over the years, a sore that reopened each time they caught sight of each other in the halls and glared.

Near thrust again, in the same spot; he didn't seem to try to hurt Mello anymore. He wanted Mello to moan, to use him to make Matt jealous

Mello wouldn't allow him that.

Near reached forward to grab Mello's length, and Mello didn't have the energy to swat it away—he was at his limit just trying to hold back all sound and even out his breathing. He just groaned in protest as Near started jacking him off.

After a few more minutes, Mello came, unable to restrain a groan, splattering the wall with his cum. Immediately after, Near dropped him, confirming Mello's suspicion; Near wasn't doing this to get himself off, but rather to torture Matt—not even Mello; Mello didn't even mean that much to him. Not even as an enemy.

As he chanced a glance at Matt, he saw him looking back in disgust. He'd obviously watched everything, not looking away even for a second, the anger boiling in his blood—Matt clenched and unclenched his fists as he at them, not seeming to notice or care about the drops of blood dripping onto the floor. He was too far gone, too focused on the anger, toxins running through his blood, than the pain of it.

It appeared Near was finished with Mello. Without even bothering to pull his pants up, Mello shut his eyes, falling to sleep, desperate to escape reality, to forget everything that had happened in this room. The pain, emotional and physical, was just too much for the moment.

Matt kept glaring at Near, unable to forgive him for what he'd done to Mello—_his _Mello.

"He didn't have anything to do with it. You had no right to touch him," Matt said, completely focused on Near, forgetting the whole class was watching. He glared at Near and pushed his desk over as he stood up, to aggressively stomp over to Near, rather than rush over to cradle Mello's sleeping form.

"Oh, but he has everything to do with it, doesn't he? The only thing that you held close, something to be used against you…"

The rage kept boiling in Matt's blood as he spoke, in his monotone as always. Matt had to interrupt, for his own sanity as well as to possibly piss off Near.

"He wasn't even _here _back then!"

"No, he wasn't. But you know exactly why I did this."

"That wasn't my fault. You're the one who took it too far, in the first place," Matt said, his smirk vanishing as he spoke, the memories coming back to haunt him.

_It was before Mello came to the orphanage—the occasion required six guards to restrain him and to keep him from running away or fighting back—that Matt was in the common room with his "friends," who teased him as he stared at Near from across the room, piecing together the blank puzzle yet again, unaware of Matt's eyes on him._

_One of the older boys prodded Matt jokingly between the ribs, making him jump. "Come on, just do it already. You said he'd probably say no anyway, right?" the boy said, a taunting smirk on his face._

_ Matt didn't mention he'd only said that to talk himself out of chickening out. He had no idea how Near would react._

_ When he didn't respond, one of the boys pushed him forward, the rest laughing when he stumbled into Near, actually managing to startle him for a few seconds before he repositioned himself back into his crouch. Matt, disgracefully, stared at Near, blushing, as he scrambled to his knees. _

_ They'd been his friends, once. But as soon as it was revealed Matt didn't like girls—that he never had—they'd been ruthless. They'd forced him, as they jeered, to ask out the freaky albino kid. It was torture in two ways—he was coming out in front of everyone, and it would be assumed he had a crush on the freak nobody wanted to talk to. Even Linda had to force herself to do it._

_ He knew there would be more teasing if he refused, and that wouldn't stop until he actually did ask out Near._

_ But if Near accepted, they would be vicious, and he didn't know if that would end. Not to mention, he'd have to pay his part convincingly, if Near accepted—he didn't particularly want to hurt his feelings. No matter how he seemed, if he said yes, then he obviously had some sort of feelings for Matt—he wouldn't accept if he didn't care, just refuse his offer and go back to his puzzle. _

_ Near, seemingly unaffected by Matt's weight—and by the way he slammed into him, bringing him to lie face down on the ground—simply turned around to face Matt, to state at him with his dark eyes. _

_ "Is there any reason you decided to fall onto me?" Near asked in his familiar monotone, making Matt blush._

_ With a glance back at his "friends," laughing and prodding each other, watching him and, obviously talking about him, he managed to choke out, "Be my boyfriend?" as he looked at the scattered puzzle pieces on the ground, seeking a distraction. There was nothing particularly interesting about the puzzle pieces themselves; they were completely blank, aside from two or three, with a fragment of an "L" on them, the same font L himself used. _

_ Near stared at him, his eyes emotionlessly scanning his body—was he checking him out?—before saying, "I find this acceptable." _

_ All color drained from Matt's face, the blush that had been there only a few moments ago rushing away, leaving him completely pale. Near…Accepted?_

_ Oh, fuck. Near, no doubt, would have some warped idea of what it was to date somebody. Matt didn't want to know what it was, but he had no choice. _

_ Near stood up and grabbed Matt's hand, pulling Matt to his feet, as well, staring unblinkingly when Matt gave him a confused look. _

_ "I do not wish to remain here," he said by way of explanation, giving Matt's hand a slight, yet deliberate, tug._

_ Matt didn't protest. He didn't want to stay, either; he could feel the eyes of not only his so-called "friends," but of everyone else in the room who he swore had been eavesdropping. _

_ He allowed Near to drag him out of the room, keeping a firm grip on his hand as they walked, leaving the puzzle scattered on the floor._

_ Near's grip was not forceful; Matt could have broken free, if he wanted to. But he allowed Near to pull him down the hallway, presumably to his room, though he had a feeling of dread. He didn't have anywhere else to go, anyway._

_ Near pulled Matt inside and promptly shut the door after him. The lock clicked, trapping Matt inside; nobody would be able to get to him._

_ There were puzzles on the floor here, as well, in various stages of completion, but they were all blank. There was a shelf entirely filled with toy robots. The walls were entirely white. The only other thing in the room was a bed, neatly made, with white sheets and blankets. _

_ Unlike Matt's room, there were no windows._

_ The lights were out in the room, but Matt's eyes were accustomed to darkness from late-night gaming, so it wasn't uncomfortable. Near didn't bother to turn on the lights. Instead, he pushed Matt up against the wall with surprising strength, keeping his hands on Matt's shoulders. _

_ "I've waited…So long," he said, forcibly pressing his lips to Matt's, making him squirm. He turned his head the other way, trying to keep Near from kissing him. _

What the hell was he doing?

_"They said you liked me, so I waited."_

_ Keeping one of Matt's arms pinned, he released the other to free up his right arm, to grasp Matt's face in his hand, keeping him from squirming as he pressed his lips to Matt's a second time. _

_ "And now I have you," he said, kissing Matt against his will again._

_ Near looked so frail, but he used surprising strength; Matt couldn't struggle very much. Near had him completely at his disposal. He could control Matt's every move; as he struggled to escape the sick feeling of Near's lips on his, Near's tongue trying to pry its way into his mouth, Near pressed him against the wall to keep him from moving, from struggling. _

_ Matt tried to block out the sensation; he closed his eyes, longing to concentrate on other things, not the feeling of Near's lips on his, the feeling of his very first kiss. Not the feeling of Near pressing him against the wall, the unintentional friction of their bodies._

_ Near was already taking it too far. But of course, things had to get worse. There were certain things Matt couldn't ignore._

_ Matt's body had begun to react to Near's, to the close proximity, to the friction from struggling against him, from Near keeping him in place. They were so _close, _and his body was tricked into thinking it was a romantic situation. _

_ And in a twisted understanding, Near forced him to the bed, fingers prying their way under the waistband of his pants._

_ "Ah__—__" Matt cried out in surprise__—__it was really more of a sharp intake of breath, a shocked gasp, rather than a scream for him to get off of him, to stop this__—__as Near's fingers brushed against his cock, teasing him until he was completely erect._

_ He had stopped struggling__—__the sudden pleasure, a feeling before only given by his own hand, temporarily overrode the urge, the impulse, to escape__—__and Near released his one armed restraint on Matt to stroke his hair._

_ "Relax," he said, as if he were talking to a young child, rather than an older teenage (albeit barely) boy, desperate for sexual release by this point, driven wild from his touch. _

_ "I'll make you feel better soon._

_ Though Near wasn't holding him anymore, he still couldn't escape; Near's weight kept him pinned to the bed. Though he was certainly lighter than most boys his age, Near kept his weight concentrated on certain areas__—__like his legs__—__preventing Matt from escaping. _

_ "Do you realize you're like a toy to me now? Like a pet?" Near asked, probably rhetorically, as he continued to stroke Matt's cock. "I control you, until I decide to let you go."_

_ Matt just tried to keep his breathing steady. He didn't want to let Near know he enjoyed this__—__or, most specifically, that he liked the feeling it gave him. Maybe he would get the wrong idea, and try to do _more _sexual things._

_ Matt doubted Near could get hard himself, yet, but that didn't mean he had no other ways of "pleasing" Matt._

_ But that gave him a plan to escape… _

_ A few minutes of repetitive stroking later, Matt came on Near's hand, letting out a teasing moan, as well. He'd kept his eyes shut and let out little moans the whole time, a if he was receiving some sort of mind__-__blowing pleasure._

_ Now, he looked up to Near with lust-filled green eyes, breathing heavily__—__that was one thing he didn't need to fake, at least._

_ Matt let out a whine as Near pulled his hand out of his pants, saying, "Don't _stop_…"_

_ Near smirked, a gesture that filled Matt with rage, but he forced himself to keep looking as if he had experienced great pleasure, when really, he felt sick._

_ "Is there anything you had in mind, then?"_

_ Matt thought of the only other thing he knew of, other than sex, for two reasons__—__one, he doubted Near was careful of sex at his age, and two, he'd pictured his first time a little more…Willingly__—__and prayed he sounded convincing._

_ "Mm…I've always wanted…a…blowjob," he said hesitantly, looking away as though he were blushing. Really, he just didn't want to make eye contact__—__he was a horrible liar__—__but in this situation, acting embarrassed had helped. That, or he had God watching out for him that night._

_ Without a word, Near got off of Matt, pulled his pants down, and complied._

_ Oh, and it was bliss__—__the feeling of Near's hot mouth on his cock, licking and sucking until he was, once again, completely erect…!_

_ But now was his chance, and if he allowed himself to enjoy it, he'd never escape. Near's weight was completely off of him__—__he was crouched between Matt's legs, after all__—__so now was his chance to run._

_ He pulled Near backwards by his hair, making him release Matt's cock from his mouth, before pulling Near up by his hair and kneeing him in the stomach. _

_ Matt hastily threw on his jeans__—__Near was incapacitated for the moment, anyway, and he wasn't too fond of showing everyone his junk__—__and when Near started to stand up, he grabbed his throat until he went limp, probably just unconscious. In his hurry to escape, Matt ran into the bookshelf full of toy robots, sending them all crashing down on the floor, most of them at least losing an arm or a leg._

_ As he rushed out the door, he thought vaguely, _when he wakes up, he'll be pissed.

Good riddance.

_**Yay, this chapters about 4k words. That's not bad, right? XD And yeah, the motive for Near hating Matt is partially why this took so long, I apologise. D: Next update should be sooner. **_

_**Reviews would be much appreciated. ^^**_


	6. Penance

_**I used to have absolutely no inspiration or plan for this, but recently, the conclusion came to me**__**—**__**and I think it's brilliant. I planned for there to be more of this, but this is the next-to-last chapter. Sorry. =/ Still, I wrote the actual ending and outlined the next chapter, and all I have to do is add details and that should be it. It should take maybe a week to do that. I never thought I'd end up liking this, and didn't think I'd miss writing this, but…It's bittersweet that it's almost over. I looked forward to the ending, so that I could write my new idea for a chapterfic (or two), but…I don't really like change, and ending a story is like ending an era. **_

_**But for now, enjoy the chapter, since I'll ramble otherwise. (:**_

"You could have killed me," Near said, his voice snapping Matt back to the present.

"I wish I did," Matt said without missing a beat. "I should have shoved one of those robots down your throat."

Near gave Matt a harsh glare. Matt was the only person who could draw emotion out of him. It used to be love, or lust, but over the years it had tainted to only pure hatred.

"Do you know," Near growled, "How _long _it took me to clean those up?"

It was Near who threw the first punch; Matt only smirked at his rage. He dodged it quickly.

Near _may _have had unexpected strength—he looked so frail, but Matt knew it didn't weaken him, that he had muscle like any other guy—but Matt was fast. He had to be, since he spent his time around Mello these days.

"So," Matt said—still smirking, of course—as he dodged another punch, "You're pissed off because I broke your toys?"

"Correct." Near didn't seem to understand what Matt found funny about this; his voice was even, no hint of a smile. Not that he ever smiled anyway.

Matt had to laugh. It was so typical of Near. He'd have to tell that to Mello when he woke up…

Busy snickering to himself, Matt didn't notice another of Near's punches until it hit him, making him stumble backwards, knocking over the two or three desks behind him.

The kids still seated in the front row, around the desks he just knocked over, gasped. Matt turned to glare at them as he stood up, before proceeding to charge at Near.

He dodged, of course, but Matt grabbed Near's shirt, taking great pleasure in ruining the neatness of it, and slammed him against the wall, holding him there the way Near held him when he was thirteen.

Unlike Matt, however, Near didn't struggle to be released. He simply looked mildly bored, just waiting for Matt to finish whatever he planned to do, not scared at all—and if he was, he didn't show it.

Though Near was completely at his disposal, Matt didn't take the opportunity to hurt him further. Instead, out of desire to embarrass Near further—and possibly a hint of his own perversion—he forced Near's pants down, stepping out of the way so he whole class could see him.

There were a few stifled chuckles, but—perhaps because it was Near, the number-one student at Wammy's—there wasn't the outburst of laugher Matt had expected.

Still, most people would be embarrassed, pulled their pants up or tried to cover themselves. Near, however, simply said, "Is this your idea of revenge, Matt?"

Matt smirked, looking into those cold, emotionless—though maybe, they held a hint of amusement, like Matt's did, at the moment—gray eyes.

"Yes."

Near made a strangled noise that must have been his attempt at a chuckle. "So, are you going to touch me like I touched you, or rape me like I did Mello?"

"Well, I planned to humiliate you, but I forgot you were incapable of processing basic human emotions such as embarrassment."

Though Matt had to fight back a laugh, each word they exchanged was coated with spite.

They each seemed to want to outdo the other's venomous words. Near smirked, a dangerous sign, especially coming from him, before he spoke.

"For the record, your cock tastes horrible."

Matt smirked again, hazarding a glance at Mello, relieved to find him still unconscious. "Care for another taste?" He tugged his pants down, so that Near was once again staring at Matt's cock. This time, not against Matt's will.

"No thank you, I'm not like your slut of a boyfriend, giving head to every guy who asks." Near gave another of his creepy, awkward chuckles before Matt slammed him into the wall.

"Mello may not have been able to kill you," he rasped, "But I have no such restrictions."

Matt swore he saw actual fear flicker in Near's eyes. "You're psychotic," Near whispered in fear, something so unusual, Matt had to savor the strange sound. "You'll get kicked out, if not killed as well."

Though Matt knew the severity of those words, he simply smirked. Until he was officially fifteen, and allowed to leave, he didn't legally exist.

And it was easy to kill somebody that didn't exist.

"I'm not afraid of that," Matt said, holding Near against the wall as he kneed him in the stomach, hopefully damaging as many organs as possible, and causing an intense amount of agony. Judging by the cry that he actually managed to draw forth from Near's lips, this was successful.

Wammy's House was above the law—it was definitely capable for Matt to be killed. But Near hurt Matt and Mello so much—even ruined their relationship, before they knew Near was completely to blame—that he didn't care. He was blinded by pure rage, operating off anger alone. Through the fury, his actions felt half-real—satisfying, causing him to smirk as he licked the blood from his knuckles, but he didn't even have to think. He was a machine, his body moving by itself. It was animalistic, with no guilt for his actions, only concerned with ways to damage the bloody, beaten boy now at his feet even further.

Maybe he really had learned a few tricks from Mello.

The teacher, who had been too shocked to intervene, eventually pulled Matt away from Near, unconscious by that point. But Matt had other plans—rather than allow himself to be dragged away, he broke free to get a few more kicks and punches in on Near's unconscious, bleeding form.

The teacher regained control of Matt, and though he struggled, he didn't manage to break free again—he had exerted a lot of energy with his violent attacks on Near, and that caught up with him. He resigned himself to being led to Roger's office.

Taking one last look at the classroom as he was dragged through the door, he noted the rest of his classmates watched him in stunned silence. He glanced at Mello, still lying unconscious, _but he, at least, should wake up soon, _he thought with a prideful glance toward Near's unresponsive form, bloody with his limbs at awkward angles, before the teacher pulled him through the door and the classroom door was shut, obstructing his view.

When Mello woke up, Matt was gone. He sat up, feeling his clothes soaked with a sticky liquid. He recognized it as blood after a few minutes. He was confused—it didn't seem to be his own—until he saw something that both quelled his confusion and put a smirk on his face.

Near was lying in a puddle of the red fluid, unconscious. He looked around at the other students, to see who had attacked Near, but they all stared back at him blankly, not with the pride one would have if they were the one to knock Near out, or were in deep, meaningless conversation with a friend.

And the answer was obvious. The teacher and Matt were gone, and Near lied in a puddle of his own blood (too close to Mello; he scooted away a few feet). So, obviously, the one who did this was… Matt.

His love for the man was instantly renewed, even if Matt likely had personal reasons for attacking Near; if he merely hated near for what he did to Mello, he would have attacked Near sooner. Mello began to wonder if Matt and Near had a personal grudge, and why. It would certainly explain Near's behavior, his desire to infuriate Matt.

But the rush of warmth throughout his body and smile on his face abruptly vanished when he thought about Matt's absence. Suddenly, he realized Matt must be in trouble for almost killing Near—he could very well be expelled or executed for an offense like that, especially if Near ended up damaged beyond repair. Regardless of his detest for Near, he had to hope he was more or less unharmed.

With a groan, Mello forced himself to stand up and pull his pants up again. He limped a few steps towards the door, the pain shooting through his body with each motion. He winced before forcing the pain from Near's violation from his mind before running off towards Roger's office, his body knowing the way from the countless times he was called in.

Matt was familiar with Roger's office. Like all kids, he was required to report there on his first day, and since then, had the location memorized.

But unlike most kids, Matt had been in this office a few times every week for around a year. It was mostly because of Mello's actions, which Matt participated in enough of his fights with people who had wronged him that his name, like Mello's, was synonymous with trouble. None of those victims, however, left the loser as badly beaten as Near.

The thought brought a prideful smirk to Matt's face, despite the punishment he was sure to receive.

"We've placed Near in the infirmary," Roger said, breaking the tense silence.

"So he's alive, then?" There was a bit of disappointment in his voice, easily mistaken for regret. Still, he was somewhat relieved to know he probably wouldn't be killed—he would likely only be forced into detention for a few weeks. Maybe a month—punishment would surely be more strict since he'd almost killed _Near, _the most likely candidate to succeed L. And if he _did _kill Near, he killed the greatest detective in history.

"He'll be unconscious for a few more hours and he's lost a lot of blood—we're giving him transfusions now—but yes."

Roger looked at Matt with disappointment, as he always did when Matt had done something wrong and ended up in his office. But it seemed more serious this time.

Of course it was. Everyone liked Near best, thought he would be the next L. His punishment would definitely be more severe than anything he'd ever been given before.

"We need to talk about your punishment," Roger said, gesturing for Matt to sit in the chair across from his, on the other side of his desk.

Matt chose to stand. After remaining defiantly still and silent for a moment, Roger continued speaking wearily, yet more intense than the countless other times Matt had been in his office.

"I should have realized you would eventually do something of this nature," he said, staring at Matt with that same look he always had, a mixture of disappointment and anger, with the broken-down look that showed his job had worn him down.

"You've had a history of violence here, most likely from your upbringing…"

"So does Mello," Matt said, resisting the anger that coursed through him at the remark at his family. It was something he kept secret—aside from Mello, of course—but of course Roger would have extensive records about his past.

"But I know what I did to Near's why I'm here, so just get to the point." Matt crossed his arms defiantly and stared at Roger, waiting for him to respond.

"We both know Wammy's House can not accommodate a boy who would repeatedly do such violent things. Which brings up an interesting question—why _would _you do such a thing, when you had to know you would be brought here for it?"

Matt stared at Roger intensely for a few more moments before answering, choosing his words carefully.

"Because nobody else would." Matt recalled every moment of abuse in that classroom—everyone sat and watched as Mello was violated in the worst way possible. Some people even _laughed. _

In addition to settling his own personal grudge, he got to stand up for Mello. He wasn't lying, after all: it _was _watching Near rape and use Mello that sent him over the edge into blind fury.

"I did it for—"

Just then, the door slammed open, sending framed photographs and drawings to the floor, where they shattered. A seething, glaring figure stood in the doorway—but not for long. He strode forward angrily, glaring at Roger even as he grabbed Matt by the shirt to pull him into a tight embrace.

"—Mello," Matt finished, surprised, staring in wonder at the blonde holding him.

Still glaring at Roger with cold blue eyes, Mello said, "Don't you take him away from me."

His voice held the hint of a growl, even as he stroked Matt's hair and held him close, the gesture meant to soothe him.

"He's _all _I have."

Roger turned to Matt, the scene not affecting him in the slightest. "You've done this all for a delinquent boy with no respect, and you'll pay the price for your actions."

Mello was the one who spoke up for Matt—Matt had done enough for him, and it was time to pay him back.

"He did it because Near _raped _me! He'd allowed to do whatever he wants, but Matt can't stand up for me?"

It wasn't the smartest choice of words, but all the suppressed rage of the past few days was boiling inside him, unwilling to be held back any longer.

"Do you want the same punishment Matt is to receive? Very well. Matt, I want you out of here by sundown. You will never be permitted on the grounds again. Mello, if you plan to be obedient, you may stay. If not, both of you leave. Wammy's has no room for troublemakers, even if they _are_ among the higher-ranked members."

"I'd rather leave." Mello spoke with finality, having already made up his mind. If Matt was leaving, Mello would, too.

Matt, however, shook his head and pulled away from Mello, his hands gently resting on Mello's arms.

"Mello, you have to stay here. You've worked so hard to succeed L—you have to stay so all that work isn't put to waste. You have to become L—it's your dream."

As disappointed and angry as Mello was, he still had to—reluctantly—accept the logic in Matt's words. Matt had to leave—and Mello had to stay.

"I have to many bad memories associated with this place. The only reason I stayed was you—I was about to run away, the very night you arrived. But then I met you, and you gave me some good memories of this place."

Matt smiled fondly, but sadness lurked in his eyes.

"It's time for me to leave. But you still have things to do here. You can come find me when you're done."

Matt broke out of Mello's grip and made his way to the open door. For a few seconds, Mello stood, frozen, unsure of what to do, before he followed Matt down the hall.

"How will I know?" he asked, not wanting Matt to leave him—the sadness was evident in his voice.

"You'll know," was all Matt said. He didn't even acknowledge Mello as they walked to his room, presumably to gather the few possessions he had to take with him.

But as Matt packed, he explained all the things Near had done to him, and what happened when he was unconscious. Mello never knew Near could be so petty, and as Matt spoke, Mello kept clenching his fists without even realizing it—he just felt the sharp stings of his fingernails against his palm, now bloody.

In the past few days, his relationship with Matt had been put to the test—they'd fought, made up, and realized just how much they loved, _needed, _each other. And yet, Matt was still leaving. Mello couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of test he had failed, and this was the punishment. It just wasn't fair that Matt was being taken from him. He didn't know if he'd ever see or speak with Matt again.

"The sun's starting to set," Matt said, zipping up the bag he'd packed—mostly with clothes, since they were all he or any Wammy's kid really had—and slinging it over his shoulder. He was even leaving his games and systems, aside from the handheld ones, behind—the thought made _Mello _depressed. The Matt he knew would carry them in a towering stack in his arms if he had to.

"Do you want to come with me? We still have a few minutes before…"

Even though he trailed off, Mello knew exactly what he meant. _Before I have to leave you behind forever._

Still, Mello nodded and followed him to the iron gates that separated Wammy's from the rest of the world, knowing it would only bring him more pain than if he'd just said goodbye in Matt's room. Now he'd have to watch Matt leave, as he tried to will the sun not to set. They knew they had only short moments left to spend together, and yet they would try to forget it—thought it was impossible—and stay together for as long as possible, the knowledge that they would have to part soon weighing on both of their minds. The evening air didn't seem as cold as the thought of a world without the other.

Matt wrap arms around Mello, both of them still silent, and rested his head on Mello's shoulder as they stared at the setting sun.

It was the first time Mello had really watched the sun set. With Matt's arms around him, he felt alive, felt everything. The chill of the evening autumn air, the wind blowing the leaves around. It contrasted with the warmth of Matt's body, pressed against his, with the light that remained lighting up his face, for once free of a smile, instead wearing a stony expression, as if he was fighting back his emotions, much like Near—he had to be strong, now. They both did.

They were silent, not knowing what to say to each other; they'd already said goodbye in Roger's office. By staying in their embrace, they only prolonged the inevitable. But they lived in the moment, cherishing it, before it was over.

Everything was golden, bathed in the light of the dying sun. Everything was precious, because it would end so soon. It was like they were dying—all they wanted was for this moment to last, to bask in it forever.

But before they knew it, the sun's rays began to fade, gold melting to the cold black of night, and Matt pulled away, leaving the cold night to make Mello shiver. Matt had begun his long journey, and he would have to make it alone.

The light vanished completely and Matt was gone.

_**I'm actually sad this is almost over. =/What do you think about the way this turned out? I'm probably going to have a few complaints about how…sudden it seemed? I really like the end though, and the way I wrote it**__**—**__**I hardly ever do descriptive scenes like that. Review and tell me what you thought? **_


	7. Epilogue

_**I really can't believe I managed to finish this. (: It's shorter than the rest of the chapters, but…Not much happens, really, it just sums everything up and finishes it. I hope it's enjoyable. :D**_

_**I hate modifying canon scenes, but I had to otherwise it wouldn't go with the rest of it. **_

__A few months later, everything was back to normal at Wammy's—for everyone but Mello. The other children were wary of Mello—more so than usual—and Near for a few days after he was released from the infirmary, before realizing nothing else interesting would happen between them, other than glares whenever they passed, and resumed their childish games.

How could life go on without Matt? He was such a huge part of Mello's life, from the moment he arrived. But nobody even acknowledged that anything had happened—Near didn't even say anything. (Though, if he even tried, Mello would either walk away or beat him up himself; he still held a grudge, and always would.)

Although Near was indifferent to Mello as always, aside from a few rage-inducing smirks every now and again as they passed in the halls, Mello hated him more than ever for taking Matt away, and for what he'd done to both of them. It was because of him that Mello would never be the same again.

It was exactly eight days until Mello's birthday, and the knowledge he wouldn't be able to spend it with Matt reopened the wound he'd had for months now, since the day Matt left, sending raw feelings flowing again. He felt just as cold as he had on that late September evening, even without the December wind and rain soaking him and chilling him to the bone.

He opened the door to his room, and since Matt was no longer there to accompany him, he slammed it shut immediately. He stripped off his wet clothes and threw them into a pile on the floor; he no longer cared if anyone thought his room was a wreck. _He _was a wreck now, anyway, even if he didn't show it.

He'd always been neat, his room spotless, but he no longer wanted to clean it. He wanted to throw everything to the floor in anger.

Maybe it was a way to fill the emptiness the place seemed to have without Matt.

__Pulling on a dry long sleeve shirt and jeans, he grabbed his laptop and entered his passwords, fingers flying over the keys. There _were _other ways he could talk to Matt, and he couldn't wait to talk to him again.

He had no idea where Matt was, but he figured it was somewhere far away. Still, he liked to think he was somewhere close, as if that would make a difference—he knew Matt couldn't pass through the gates ever again.

He opened the new message from Matt. It read:

_Sorry I haven't been in touch for a while; I heard some rumors and wanted to move closer to you. I have a feeling you'll know soon, as well. I can't exactly tell you, in case someone else reads this. You'll know what it is, though, when you hear it. When that happens, meet me at the gates._

_ I've done some things I'm not proud of__—__illegal, really__—__but I've been able to make a living for myself and find a safe place to live. Please tell me you're not the same, and you've left Near alone__—__I don't want you in trouble, too. _

_ But I guess we'll see each other soon enough; you can explain everything then. _

He was close? _And I'll see him soon,_ Mello thought. Though he was elated to hear he would see Matt again, he was a little angry—Matt was the one who had convinced him to stay. And though it was true he still wanted to be L, it was different now—he couldn't let _Near _be L and allow him to keep doing the things he did to him and Matt, or for him to allow other people do. He would stop that, if he was L.

Still, the possibility seemed far-fetched; everyone liked Near best, and they were already used to the idea of _Near _becoming L. Wammy's was biased towards Near. Some days, it seemed like he put ip with all the people here he hated—Near, Roger, and L—for nothing.

It didn't make him feel much better that Matt wasn't being obedient, _Matt _wasn't following the rules, but Mello had to. It wasn't fair, even if he knew why it had to happen.

He decided to wait until later to reply, but still he wondered: just what did Matt know?

Mello wandered down the halls to clear his mind, slamming into kids that walked too close. But as he passed Roger's office, giving it an angry yet nostalgic look, one of the last places he'd seen Matt, Roger grabbed him by the arm.

He was surprised, of course, yet didn't resist; maybe this was how he would hear Matt's 'rumors.'

But when he pulled Near into the office as well, he stepped away, to the other side of the office, as far away as he could get, giving Near a disdainful look.

"What is it, Roger?" he said impatiently. He wanted to leave as soon as possible. He _hated _being in a room with Near, who defiled the floor Matt once walked.

"L is dead."

Mello was filled with a mixture of relief and horror. Did he choose Near as his successor? He couldn't have! If Near was successor, who knew what he would use his position to get away with!

"Did he choose me?" Mello focused his harsh gaze on Roger—might as well get to the point.

Mello kept his fists clenched—he had to keep his emotions under control, at least until he knew if he would succeed L and break the cycle. He couldn't disqualify himself now.

Of all Kira's crimes, this was both the most and least forgivable. L was dead, paying for his crimes in Hell—but Mello wished he could have done it himself. Kira didn't know him well enough to want him dead, not the way Mello did.

"He died before he could choose between you and Near. If you two were to work together—"

"No, that won't be necessary," Mello interrupted, not needing to hear the rest. "I'm leaving." Mello turned around and walked through the office door. Roger called after him, but didn't even attempt to stop him. Everyone knew the old bastard hated kids—especially Mello.

He went to his room, gathering the few things he owned in a backpack—a journal he'd kept before he was taken here, when he lived with his family, an old photograph of his mother and father (his mother was pregnant; it was technically the only picture of him in existence). He left the textbooks on their shelves (and the desk, where the well-studies ones rested, and the floor, where the useless ones lied, open to random pages they fell to when they were thrown); the time of his life when he needed to study were over.

After he'd packed the few sentimental possessions he owned and some clothes, he opened the laptop to reread Matt's message.

He understood, now. Matt must have been hacking—maybe that was the illegal activity he'd mentioned, but it never bothered him before—likely as an attempt to be sure Mello was still at Wammy's, instead of leaving prematurely, and staying out of trouble. Mello would talk to him about that later; for now, he typed, _See you at the gates _and sent it, closing his laptop again.

As soon as he left, his room would be cleared out. Maybe the entire building would be demolished, now that L was dead. But Mello didn't care—it could rot for all he cared. He'd let nothing valuable there..Just halls full of memories with matt and violation from Near. He'd _rather _see it destroyed—he could always remember the fun times when he looked at Matt. If this place was being destroyed, it was as if Near was destroyed with it.

A happy ending. One good thing to hold on to, one thing to counteract some of the bad.

He took one last look out the window he'd spent so much time looking out of, just enough to clear his head. He saw that it was raining, but he didn't care enough to take an umbrella, or even a jacket. He just walked out of his room with his bag, leaving the door open, and ran through the halls, until he made his way outside.

As expected, when he got out there, a figure stood at the gates, offering Mello a smile. Though the wind whipped at his hair, he wasn't soaked like Mello was.

He wasn't technically on the grounds; he was on the other side of the gates. If it were Mello, he wouldn't have cared; nobody was around. He would have ran up to Matt and embraced him. He wouldn't have even waited for Matt to meet him at the gates; he'd go to his room and they'd leave together. But Matt had always been more mature than he was.

Mello pushed the gates open, the cold metal freezing his hand—he wasn't wearing gloves, either.

Though he looked the same as he did when he left—only two or three months had passed, after all—Matt had changed. It wasn't obvious, wasn't something easily visible, but Mello saw it in his distanced stance, the way he stayed off the grounds, rather than run up to embrace Mello, only offering a smile. He had matured; living the way he had described to Mello had changed him. Mello wondered if it would change him, too. But it didn't matter—they were together once again. The world could end and Mello would be just fine, if he was with Matt.

Mello stepped through the gates to embrace Matt, who held the umbrella out to cover Mello, as well. Already chilled to the bone, it wouldn't do much good. Mello pulled away long enough to allow Matt to remove his jacket and hand it to Mello, but the closeness of Matt's body warmed him more. Still, Mello pulled the jacket on anyway, after stripping off his soaked shirt and abandoning it on the ground.

They took the first step to their new home; Mello didn't know where it was, but it didn't matter. As long as he was with Matt, and far away from Near, all was right with his world.

He smiled, wrapping an arm around Matt. Though it was raining, his day couldn't be better.

_**I don't think I could really say anything to sum it up without ruining the mood of the story. XD I really grew fond of this towards the end, though. I really wish I'd explored the whole "corrupt L" thing. It's far from the only thing I hated about the story, though. XD I'm just glad I got to give it a happy ending. (: **_

_**So, now that it's OVER, how did it turn out? **_


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